The Princess of Mirkwood: Book 1 of The Greenwood Trilogy
by Kathoran
Summary: Princess Aeyera of the Greenwood has been alone for over a century. She has been exiled by her people and driven nearly mad by the darkness haunting Dol Guldur. She has lived with the elves and the Dunadain, but she doesn't belong anywhere. When Gandalf approaches her with a chance for redemption, she is unable to refuse, and is swept off her feet on the adventure of a lifetime.
1. Chapter 1

A vision flashed though my mind.

A young man stood before me, dressed in chain mail and dark cloth. He had long, dark hair that hung about his face. Dark stubble covered his cheeks. His eyes twinkled with some hidden secret, and he seemed to be experiencing a deep joy. He brushed a stand of hair back from his face, tucking it into a braid above his ear. A wedding ring shone on his finger. His mouth was open with a smile that lit up his face, and his deep voice echoed through my mind as I climbed higher and higher.

The woods had grown more and more stifling with each passing day, and each day I attempted to sneak away from the palace. Today I had succeeded. My head broke through the canopy of tangled limbs shadowing the Greenwood, and I took a deep breath of fresh, clean air. My head cleared, and the cool wind seemed to snatch away the image of the young man, as well as his voice. Seconds later he was gone, as if nothing more than mist that had been touched by sunlight.

I stood and looked over the sea of emerald and gold spread out before me. Perched upon the branches of the crest of the Greenwood, I could see everything. The Misty Mountains loomed behind me, and the lake-town of Esgaroth sat upon Long Lake like a jewel. The kingdom of Erebor perched proudly at the end of the lake, gleaming like burnished gold in the radiant light of the setting sun. The mountain looked to be on fire, so bright did it shine.

Birdsong filled the air, and blue butterflies flitted around me. I settled down in the braches and pressed my chin to my knee. My father would never approve of me being outside the palace so close to dusk. My mother's death several years prior had affected him even more than my brother and I, and he had turned on me, shunning me. I did not understand why he hated me so. Every time I entered his presence, he would glare at me and snap as though I had been the one to kill her. I, an elfling of sixteen, had lost my mother a decade ago. It was impossible for me to have harmed her in any way, even if I had wanted to. I had loved her more than life itself, and thought about her death every day.

My brother was the only one who understood how I felt. He is centuries older than I, and much wiser. However, he oftentimes uses his wisdom to force his will instead of accepting mine. So often he will shout at me, driven to the end of his rope by my antics. To his credit, he rarely performs so in front of others, and tries his best to keep his temper—a trait inherited from our father—in check. It is so hard to take him seriously, though; especially since he spends so long braiding his hair in front of the looking glass when he thinks I am not looking.

"Aeyera!"

Ignoring my brother, I shift until I am standing on the twisted branches that make up the roof of the forest. Although the eaves are thinner here, I am light enough that although they bend, they do not break. Looking out across the emerald ocean of leaves, and then on to the aquamarine surface of the lake, it was not hard to imagine myself to be a bird, flying high above the surface of Middle Earth. I spread my arms out. The wind caught my hair and sleeves, whipping them out behind me.

_"Aeyera, come at once!" _His voice, faint from this distance, reaches my ears once more._ "Father needs you! I know you are there!"_

Leaning forward into the wind, I laughed, tossing my head back. Tears blew back from my eyes as I whooped, reveling in freedom's bliss.

The wind died down as I leaned further, and the support holding me up disappeared. My eyes widened as I fell forward with a small shriek of surprise. I plunged back into the forest, crashing through the smaller branches as I went. Snagging a branch several stories down, I pulled myself back to my feet, shaking slightly. Elves were immortal, yes—but not invincible. I shuddered at the height below me and took off, springing from branch to branch with as much ease as a squirrel. The air was still, too still—but when I moved this quickly, it felt as though the slightest breeze whispered through the leaves as I passed: as though the forest was waking up from whatever spell kept it asleep.

Too soon the walk was over and the palace gates came into view. A minute later, I reached the tree that stood over the entrance to my home. No one seemed to be on guard, so I leapt from the branch and landed in a crouch. Pleased with myself, I looked up at the height from which I had leapt.

_"Princess,"_ a familiar voice called out. I froze. Of all the guards who had caught me, it had to be her: the _one _who I could not lie to. I winced at the tone she used. _"Why are you out so late, my Lady?"_

I turned and faced the elf behind me, arranging my features into what I hoped to be a look of pure innocence. I sincerely doubt she was fooled for a moment. _"I was on a walk,"_ I answered, looking up at the captain of the guard. _"Is that wrong?"_ I questioned haughtily, lifting my chin higher.

The auburn-haired she-elf, who stood at twice my height, smiled wryly. Not for the first time did I wish that elves grew at the same rate as humans did: I was the same size as a young human child, and was rarely taken seriously because of it. _"You will soon know the answer when your father finds you out after sunset."_

As she spoke, the sun slipped below the horizon to the west. Turning sharply, I pushed on the doors, but it was in vain. Only a guard could open them now: they were sealed to all but the palace guards. King's orders.

I pushed and pulled on the door handle, going even so far as to hang off it, but to no avail. I turned to the amused she-elf behind me, who had watched my futile struggles with an entertained smirk. "Tauriel," I begged, looking up to her with doe eyes. "Please let me in."

The sound of twigs snapping caught my attention, and I scrambled back into the tree overlooking the palace. Not a moment too soon: barely had I hid myself in the trees that my brother raced down the path towards the captain of the guard.

_"Legolas,"_ she said, bowing her head. _"My Lord."_

He looked around distractedly for a moment before resting his eyes on her once again. I have noticed that he has been doing that quite a lot lately; he's not able to keep his eyes off her. _"My father sent me to search for the princess, foolish elfling that she is," _he said, scowling. I frowned. The shadows on the ground grew longer as the sky deepened from pink to purple, and trepidation grew within me as the air grew cooler. My father the king would be most displeased if I were to be missing overnight.

_"She is young, my prince,"_ Tauriel said, gently, placing a calming hand on his shoulder. _"I am sure you were similar to her when you were young."_

_"No,"_ he ground out, gripping his bow tightly, _"I was not. She is reckless and foolhardy, caring only for her own gratification and blowing off the consequences of her actions."_

I clenched my teeth in anger, eyes narrowing at my brother. How could he say that?

_"It matters not,"_ the she-elf replied, looking out at the forest. _"There is peace over these lands, she has little to fear. Go inside, my lord. I will alert you of the princess' return, if she has not returned already."_

He nodded wearily and strode through the doors, which Tauriel opened for him. Dropping from the eaves above them, I slipped through them as they shut. I stayed there until Legolas turned the corner, then set out for my chambers, staying in the shadows.

I made it without incident and slipped inside, shutting the doors quietly before rushing to the looking glass. Leaves stuck out of my hair at odd angles, and I plucked them out, placing them on my windowsill, through which the river below could be heard, rushing along through the forest. I changed quickly into a pale green gown, jumping on one foot as I traded my lace up boots for a pair of light slippers. I ran a brush through my hair, effectively trapping the few remaining leaves, and dashed out of my room towards the throne room.

My dress rustled as I went, moving as quickly as I dared without rousing suspicion. By the time I reached the throne room, my brother was already speaking. _"… Is reckless and disobedient," _Legolas was saying, his voice low. _"She has no care for the consequences of her actions, and she is lost in the woods because of this."_

The king stood as I ran up the steps and stood behind my brother. Legolas backed up quickly, jumping when he ran into me_. "Aeyera,"_ he asked, his bright eyes darkening. _"How did you get here? Tauriel—"_

_"—Has much better things to do than searching for a lost elfling," _Father finished, his tone scathing.

I bowed, blushing. Nervousness twisted my stomach, and a quick glance at my hands revealed that they were shaking. I quickly hid them behind my back. _"F-Father, I—"_

He cut me off, glaring down at me as he descended from his throne to stand in front of me. I backed up, running into Legolas. _"—Obviously have no regard for the consequences of your actions,"_ he finished dryly. I gritted my teeth as tears of anger sprang to my eyes.

_"I—"_ I began again, but was once again cut off. I bit my trembling lip, noticing that Legolas had placed his hand on my shoulder. He squeezed it comfortingly as Father turned and ascended his throne again.

_"You will be joining me on the journey to Erebor to see King Thror,"_ he said, sneering. Clearly he thought this to be some terrible punishment_. "And you shall ride with me so I can keep an eye on you."_

My jaw nearly dropped. Knowing that he would snatch this privilege away if I showed excitement, I frowned as yanked my shoulder out of my brother's firm grip, stalking forward. My voice held anger and disbelief. _"But Father, I—"_

_"You will not argue with me, child,"_ he hissed, his eyes overly bright and full of hatred so scalding that I shrank back once more, truly afraid. _"Depart to your chambers, and do not leave the palace unless you wish to spend the next century under lock and key!" _By the end, his voice had raised to a shout.

I bowed stiffly and left the throne room as quickly as I dared. Legolas followed close behind me. The instant the door shut behind Legolas and I, I sank to the floor, shaking. Fearful tears sprang to my eyes. Despite my initial happiness at leaving the Greenwood, which I had dreamed of since my mother's death ten years before, I still was very afraid at travelling with my father. Legolas bent down and knelt before me, brushing a stray lock of hair out of my face.

_"Aeyera?"_ he murmured. I glanced up at his bright blue eyes, now filled with concern for me. I wanted to hug him, to find comfort in him—but I suddenly was reminded that he had been the one to tell Father of my absence in the first place. Sniffing, I pushed his hand away, jumped to my feet, and ran off to my room. He could have caught me easily, had he tried, but he stood behind me, watching me with sad eyes.

I reached my room and slammed the door behind me, crying. I kicked off my slippers and threw myself onto my bed, holding tight to one of the pillows and burying my face into it. As the crickets began to sing outside and the owls began to hoot to one another, I looked up, a smile finally crossing my face. I was leaving the Greenwood.


	2. Chapter 2

I slept little that night, and what little sleep I had was filled with dreams of fire. There was something… someone else, a bright face that I knew I had seen before, but couldn't ever remember.

When I finally woke up, my dreams were forgotten. A smile spread across my face. Today we left for Erebor. It was not yet dawn, and the sky was still dark. Lit lanterns brightened my room.

I leapt out of bed and stripped off my gown, which I had accidentally fallen asleep in. I changed quickly into a bright green dress and slipped on a pair of riding boots. I grabbed my bow off my dresser and threw open the door, running headlong into Legolas.

He had been waiting for me. He turned me around and walked me back into my room, closing the door behind us.

I turned around and faced him, shrugging his hand off my shoulder. _"What do you think you are doing?" _he asked, raising his eyebrow. His voice was laced in amusement, but I could not see what was funny.

I frowned. _"I am going to Erebor,"_ I retorted.

_"You realize that you are going on a journey to _visit_ a neighboring king, not fight a war?"_ he asked, now clearly entertained.

_"Aye,"_ I replied, eyeing him warily.

He gestured to my attire, and I frowned again. _"As a princess, you should not travel with your bow—"_ he raised his voice as I opened my mouth to protest. _"When going on a peaceful mission to visit another kingdom. There are guards for that, Sister."_

I crossed my arms, aware that I was making a fool of myself but not really caring at this point. Anger towards my brother still simmered in my heart. _"So?"_

He strode to the door and opened it, allowing Tauriel to come into the room. I looked up in surprise. _"Since she was such a help to you yesterday evening,"_ he said, faint traces of sarcasm and amusement twisted in his voice_, "I asked her to help you get ready for the journey. We depart at dawn."_ He opened his mouth as if to say something else, but closed it and left the room, closing the door sharply behind him.

The she-elf smiled apologetically at me before passing me a silver gown, which I placed on my bed. I had to admit, it was much more befitting than the green one, which—although it matched my eyes—was not something for royalty to wear amongst other royals. Tauriel helped me remove my quiver, and once I was dressed in the new gown, she helped fix my hair the way a princess was supposed too.

_"What is the real reason Legolas asked you to help me?"_ I asked tirely. I was not dumb, despite what the older elves, such as my father, thought. Just because they are centuries older than I does not mean that I am not clever. I knew that my brother would not ask the captain of the guard to _fix my hair _unless he needed to get a message to me, or unless she herself had insisted on speaking to me.

_"He didn't,"_ she responded after a moment, twisting several strands of hair together into a small, intricate braid. _"I asked to help you, although I admit, it was partially on his behalf."_

I looked up at her reflection in the mirror, confused. _"Why?"_

_"Your brother worries for you, princess,"_ she sighed, twisting the braid around the base of my tiara. Her eyes were filled with pain unspeakable, and a lump filled my throat. _"I wish you could see how much Legolas cares for you. Despite his harsh words with you, he does love you."_

I looked down at my folded hands. I suddenly felt that if I didn't speak my mind, I would burst. _"It is just… Legolas always tells me what to do, and he treats me like a child, and he tells Father on me!"_

She paused in her braiding and looked at our reflection sadly. _"That is what brothers do, Princess. They are over-protective, jealous, and sometimes they do tell you what to do. Often they will go to their parents if their siblings do not listen to them first. But all brothers have a place in their hearts for their little sisters, and Legolas is no exception. His heart is pure, my lady. He worries,"_ she added after a long pause. She concentrated on braiding for a few moments as I pondered her words.

_"Why?"_ I asked. I knew that often I was the problem, and I knew that my pride often got in the way, but I never thought that Legolas might be trying to protect me by going to our father.

_"Princess, despite the fact that you are by no means an infant, you are, by both our own and by mortal standards, a child. I have walked this earth for fifty and four hundred years, and you have lived barely sixteen. Legolas is centuries older even than I, and is one of the wiser beings in our realm. You are too harsh on him; he only has your best interests at heart. So when you go off into the forest alone, he fears for you. He knows that you will not be a child forever, and he wants to make it so…"_

_"He wants me to remain a child?"_ I asked, more confused than before.

She looked pained, and refused to meet my eyes. _"No. He wants you to make it out of childhood alive. If you continue acting rashly, chances are that you will not make it to your coming of age ceremony. He wishes only to protect you. When I was younger,"_ she began taking a shuddering breath, _"I was very much like you. My parents went missing when I was very young, and my brother spent much of his young adulthood caring for me."_ She paused. I watched her reflection, waiting for her to go on. Her hands were still, and several unfinished braids hung about my face. _"I hated that he would watch me so closely, so one day I ran away. I was young, only a bit older than you are now, and I did not understand that all actions have consequences either. I became lost, and strayed into a strange part of the forest. I was ambushed by a group of orcs, and I would have died on the spot had my brother not been right behind me, tracking me. He heard my scream and came running, with no thought of the danger. He fought bravely,"_ she whispered, bowing her head in shame and grief, _"but he did not survive. I was hit by an orc dagger—"_ she lifted her shirt so that I could see the faint scar on her left hip, letting it drop as she continued her story, _"And I would have died had the King and Queen not heard the sound of battle and rushed to see what was happening. They found me and took both my brother's body and I to the palace." _She took a deep, shuddering breath and looked up at me with hazel eyes that sparkled with unshed tears._ "I never have forgiven myself, princess. I pray that you would learn from my mistakes and not make the same ones I did."_

I remained silent, processing this new information as the she-elf finished fixing my hair. I didn't know how to respond. I thought back to the night before, when Legolas had tried to comfort me, and I had run away. I remembered how when he tried to take me home, I ignored him. My father's anger was not my brother's fault. It was mine. _"I'm very sorry, Tauriel,"_ I whispered, reaching back and taking her hand. _"It is just that… ever since my mother passed,"_ I said quietly,_ "Legolas and I… we haven't—"_

_"Aeyera, are you ready?"_ Legolas called, knocking on my door. _"We are preparing to depart."_

Tauriel and I stood and faced each other, and I stood still as she straightened the tiara that had been braided into my hair. Her hand brushed my cheek, and I wondered if this was what it was like to have an older sister. _"Remember what I have said,"_ she whispered. She crossed to the door and opened it, coming face to face with my brother. She stepped out, nodded her head once to Legolas, and moved swiftly away.

I turned to him and ran towards him. _"Aeyera, are you—"_ I cut him off with a hug, wrapping my arms around his waist, which was as high as I could reach. He stiffened in surprise.

_"I'm sorry for worrying you,"_ I mumbled, my words muffled in his chest. He bent down, and I released him, and then wrapped my arms around his neck as he pulled me close to him.

_"It is alright,"_ he said, his breathing tickling my ear. _"I simply wish for you to be safe. I am sorry that I tell you what to do so often. Your actions worry me, and I do not want something tragic to happen to you."_

I felt a wave of sorrow at the implication of his words. _I want to keep you safe, since I couldn't save our mother. I couldn't bear to lose you too._

_"I am sorry for yesterday as well," _I told him. _"I should not have run off, and I will not do so again."_

He laughed softly. _"I would not blame you if you did. I am sorry for last night as well. I should have protected you from Father better. I will promise you this, though." _He pulled back and brushed away a stray hair from my face. _"I will always, _always _protect you. Deal?"_

I smiled at him, my heart swelling. _"Deal."_


	3. Chapter 3

Legolas led the way to the stables, where the delegation awaited. The sun was just peaking over the horizon, bathing Middle Earth in light and turning the sky gorgeous hues of rose and violet. Tauriel was there as well, and helped me mount my horse Athelas, the descendant of the horse my mother had once ridden. Tauriel's hair shone rubicund in the early light, and she smiled sadly at me as I settled into the saddle.

With a blast of the hunting horn, we set off. The king led the procession on his steed, and other warriors flanked him. I rode beside Legolas, nervous that Father would call upon me to ride beside him. We began to gallop down the Elven Road, hooves clacking loudly on the pale paving stones. More than once, a white hart bounded out of our way, but other than that the forest seemed strangely empty.

Near noon, we exited the Greenwood. After so many hours riding in near dusk, the warm sunlight was a welcome change. It was magnificent. We rode down the path towards the light, the trees on either side growing stronger as the colors around us grew brighter. I sat up straighter in my saddle as we bust out of the forest, the sunlight blinding me for a moment. When my vision cleared, I gasped. Rolling green plains stretched far out to the East. The dwarf kingdom of Erebor stood directly in front of us, towering over the surrounding land. Esgaroth, I knew, lay to the South, but we would not be going there. The sky was a beautiful, brilliant blue, and I felt in my heart that I never would be happy again living in the Greenwood now that I had seen someplace else so fair.

_"Oh, Legolas—" _The sight stole my breath away, and my brother smiled softly at me. I reached over and took his hand, grinning from ear to ear. I laughed, wanting nothing more than to urge the mare forward and fly over the plains stretching out endlessly around me. However, Tauriel's story still rang in my ears. I glanced over at my brother and knew that never again would I worry him so. I promised. Someday, though, I would ride, and I would be free.

We did not stop to eat but rather ate on the way. As of yet, my father had not called for me, which was fine. I was perfectly happy with my brother, listening to stories forgotten by all but our kind. A new one was about the Silmaril and the Nauglamír, which were the first causes of strife between the races of the elves and the dwarves, many ages before.

We neared and rode beside the river that flowed from beyond Erebor to Esgaroth. As we passed beside it, I stared down at my reflection. I looked too old; too old for my age. Others my age looked to be the age of a six-year-old human. I looked to be nearly eleven or twelve. At least, that is what the healers told me, when Father took me to see what was wrong with me.

_"Aeyera." _

Legolas had grabbed my reins to keep me from moving too far ahead of the procession, which had halted. The mountain of Erebor loomed above us, even more magnificent up close. The setting sun gave it the appearance of being made of gold. Perhaps it was accurate: it was said that the dwarf king Thrór owned more riches than anyone else in Middle Earth. Others whispered that it was only a matter of time before a dragon came to claim the treasure.

_"Father, when are we to reach the mountain?"_ Legolas asked, letting go of my horse and straightening on his own. The king did not answer but stared straight ahead, unblinking_. "Father?"_ Legolas repeated his question, moving to position his horse in front of mine.

The elf-king blinked and turned to him, and though his eyes were on Legolas, they were unfocused as though he were looking at something no one else could see. _"We shall reach the mountain by noon tomorrow, if we take no rest. Ride forward!"_

And so we continued. The sun soon disappeared beyond the horizon, bringing cool twilight with it. The moon rose, bathing everything in soft, blue light, and that of the stars mingled with it. Each elf seemed to glow and grow in his own way, each truly looking immortal and ethereal. I wondered if I looked the same.

I rode silently, speaking not a word to anyone, lost in my thoughts. Sometime during the night as we paused to water the horses, Legolas pulled me aside. _"What did Tauriel speak to you about?" _he asked.

I sighed, suddenly feeling much too tired for someone so young. I pulled my cloak more tightly around me, feeling the night's chill for the first time. _"She spoke to me of her family,"_ I hesitated_. "And of my recklessness."_ I looked over at him, feeling guilty and sad. _"I am sorry for worrying you. I should have thought of the consequences of my actions before acting on my desires."_

He smiled softly and embraced me, holding me tightly to his chest. I hugged him back tightly, my heart warming. _"You are quite wise for one so young," _he said_. "I forgive you. When I was your age, many ages ago, Leänedil and I would sneak off to play soldier. We would use sticks in place of swords, and pieces of bark in place of shields. Once our weapons were sharpened, which involved rubbing the bark off the sticks with a stone, we would go looking for 'orcs' to hunt."_ He began to laugh, and I smiled, glad to see him happy. _"I recall once going to hunt for an unfortunate bush and stumbling upon one with a rabbit hole under it. Leänedil wished to practice his swordsmanship on the bush, so he attacked. You should have seen his face when the bush began shaking; you would've though a warg was coming after him." _

I laughed as well, ignoring the stares I received from my fellow elves. _"Why have I never met Leänedil?"_ I asked curiously.

Legolas smiled sadly and looked at me with his deep blue eyes. He looked so sad, and I felt as though my heart were breaking. _"Oh, Legolas,"_ I stammered, _"I'm so sorry, I didn't know, I thought—"_

_"You have nothing to be sorry for, sister,"_ he replied softly, looking up at the constellations appearing above us. _"His star stands there,"_ he said, pointing to the brightest star in the sky, directly in front of us. _"He was the son of the our mother's sister, and she named the star after him when he passed."_

_ "Do you have any other stories?" _I asked. _"What of Eärendil?"_

He smiled. _"I have told you his story, Sister!"_

_ "Please tell me again," _I begged. _"His is my favorite!"_

He laughed and began again, telling me the story of brave Eärendil half-elven, son of Tuor and Princess Idril. He was one of the greatest of our ancestors, the great seafarer who carries a star across the sky. When he was but a young child, _"Seven years old! Younger even than you, Sister—" _he had escaped the sacking of the ancient city of Gondolin. He married Elwin the White when he was twenty-seven, and Lords Elros and Elrond were born to them soon after. He built the great ship Vingilótë in order to search for his parents, who had departed across the sea. During the time he was gone, Elwing the White had come into possession of the Silmaril that had once belonged to Beren. When news came to the sons of Fëanor that she had it, they attacked her. To protect the stone, she threw herself and it from a cliff, into the ocean. While she fell, she was transformed into a great white bird. She them flew until she found her husband once again. They eventually reached the Undying Lands. _"He has a star as well. We know it as Eärendil, our most beloved star."_

I looked up at the star and felt a pulling in my chest. Directly about it was a cluster of stars—shaped much like a crown—that I had named _Aeyleria_; after my mother. I pointed at the cluster of lights above us, and Legolas followed my gaze. _"I named them after Mother,"_ I whispered_. "I-I wanted to believe that she's watching over us."_

He leaned over and placed his hand on my shoulder. _"She is, Aeyera. Don't grieve; she is alright."_

I nodded, my throat choked up. We rode in silence for a while until my father called for the procession to halt. He squinted in the darkness, looking at the cluster of lights that had appeared on the ground not two leagues from where we rode.

_"What is it?"_ Legolas asked, urging his horse to ride next to the king's. I followed, bouncing on the horse's back.

_"Dwarves,"_ he spat, a look of disgust crossing his face. I never understood why he hated dwarves so much; they seemed kind, from what I heard. Well… kind enough. _"Keep riding,"_ he commanded.

We did so, and when we reached them, they were revealed to be lanterns of gold and silver, exquisitely made, leading down a carved stone passage into the earth. A single dwarf stood in front of the entrance, decked in mail of the finest workmanship. A long brown beard was tucked into his belt, and his eyes twinkled kindly.

"Welcome, Thranduil, elf king of the Greenwood," he spoke in the common tongue, "Thrór, the King Under the Mountain, welcomes you and your kin. Come," he said once we had all dismounted. He glanced around, smiling at me when his eyes locked with mine. "He is waiting."


	4. Chapter 4

Father led us down into the earth behind the dwarf. His face was like stone, and the torchlight cast strange shadows across his features. His eyes were kind, though, unlike those of my father. I stayed close to Legolas, and he held my hand as we walked. After nearly half an hour of silence, we emerged from the tunnel into the dwarf city. Several gasps came from the other important elves that had travelled with us. I froze, gaping at the stone world around me.

Everything, the floor, walls, ceiling, columns—all were formed from a clear green stone and had been carved out of the mountain itself. Enormous columns held up the stone roof of the palace, which I now recognized as the floor of the world. Dwarves moved in all directions, bedecked in jewels. Everyone, man, woman, and children, had beards, a fact which startled and delighted me. Quite a few stared as we entered. The children with wonder, the parents with distrust.

Just then another party, this one of men, came up next to us. Their accents and voices revealed them to be men of Dale. Lord Girion, whom I had seen but never met, bowed to my father, who bobbed his head once in return.

"It is an honor to see you again, King Thranduil," he said, rising from his bow and beckoning to a young boy who stood behind him. The boy was as tell as I, and had dark, shaggy hair. His father placed a loving hand on his shoulder and squeezed it gently as he spoke. "This is my son and heir, Bain," he said, smiling down at his son and giving him a loving shake. The boy grinned up at his father, then smiled shyly at me. I smiled back, and waved slightly. His smile grew bigger.

"This is Legolas, my son," Thranduil said slowly and clearly, beckoning him forward. My brother, without releasing my hand, moved forward and bowed. My father made no motion to indicate that I was remotely related to him. I may as well have been one of the dwarves scuttling around the hall. "… And heir," he added.

"Father? Why does she have a crown?" Bain tugged on his father's hand and whispered, looking over at me curiously. We all could hear him, despite his attempt to lower his voice, and several of the guards shifted uncomfortably. I twisted a strand of hair absently around my finger and looked up at him nervously.

My father's nostrils flared, and I pursed my lips together. I was afraid that because of Bain's comment, my father would become angry, and take it out on me later. "Ah, yes, I forgot," he said absently, shaking his head. His eyes were as cold as those of a snake. "This is my youngest daughter, Aeyera."

I bit my lip as Legolas' grip on my hand tightened. I could _feel _the waves of anger rolling off him, and for once I was unafraid of my father. My brother would protect me. I curtsied to the Lord and his son.

"It is an honor to meet you, Lord Girion," I said sweetly, raising my eyes to meet his. "Both you and your son."

He smiled, and both he and his son bowed. "And you," he said. "_Êl síla erin lû e-govaned vîn_."

I blinked in surprise and repeated the phrase back to him. Few men knew the elven tongue well, and few knew our customs. _A star shines upon the hour of our meeting. _

Legolas pulled me slightly behind him as the king's back stiffened. At that moment, the dwarf guide returned.

"Come along, your majesties," the dwarf guide said gruffly, though not unkindly. "King Thrór awaits you."

Without waiting for a response, the dwarf turned and began ushering us into the Hall of Kings. My mouth fell open as I beheld the beautiful room before me. An enormous green stalactite hung from the ceiling at the end of the room. Deep veins of gold twisted through it and connected to the king's throne. A beautiful gem of starlight hung above the dwarf-king's head, and—did I imagine it? The stone seemed to be emitting light of sorts, although to me it seemed tinged by darkness.

A kind-looking dwarf with piercing blue eyes and a greying beard sat upon the throne, his thick beard braided with gold and gems. His shoulders were laden with furs, and a crown sat upon his brow. Two other dwarves stood beside him, each younger than the king himself. The youngest of the three watched the procession approach with wary eyes, although they softened when they landed on Bain and I.

The dwarf king stood and spread his arms wide, smiling brightly. "Welcome Thranduil, King of the Woodland Realm. Welcome Girion, Lord of Dale. I thank you for gracing me with your presence at this time." His smile faded slightly, and he resumed his seat. "I would ask that the Lord Girion and the other noble of Dale; King Thranduil and his court, and their children remain here with me while the others be led to the great hall for the feast. The royals will be along shortly."

Father turned and tried to usher me towards the door before anyone else noticed, but Legolas grabbed my arm, forcing me to stay where I was. My father looked up at him sharply. _"This is no place for a child,"_ he hissed. My eyes narrowed. I hated the way he spoke to me—as if I were worth nothing.

Legolas glared back, nonplused. He was as tense as a bowstring. _"Aeyera is the princess and, should anything happen to me, your heir. She will stay with me."_

Thranduil stared back at his son for a moment before turning around and bowing to Thrór. "As you wish," he said, a mocking tone in his voice. I doubt the dwarf king caught it, although the youngest dwarf tightened his grip on his sword.

"Excellent!" Thrór cried, beckoning to other dwarves to bring benches forward so we could sit. As we situated ourselves, he continued. "Before we being, I would introduce my son, Thráin, and my grandson, Thorin."

I was the only one still standing, and I curtsied, well aware of the tension between the three races. As I did so, the tension eased just the slightest amount, although I could feel my father's anger as though it were heat. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Lords," I said, my young voice a chirp to their ears.

Thráin and Thorin both smiled and both bowed to me in return. "It is our pleasure to welcome you to our halls, Princess," Thorin said, his voice deep and kind. "I would guess that you are the daughter of King Thranduil," he said, bowing his head to my father. I nodded. "Would you grace me with your name?"

"Aeyera, you majesty," I said softly. I smiled back at him happily, but it faded as my father gripped my arm and pulled me back to my seat. Legolas pulled me closer to him, away from my father.

"My Lord, you had urgent business to speak to us about?" he urged through gritted teeth, glaring at me. I shrank down in my seat, afraid. I was not ashamed of speaking to the prince, but I was embarrassed by my father's actions towards me. I feared his anger, and his wrath. Legolas took my hand and squeezed it tightly.

"Darkness stirs in the South and the East," Thrór said, his voice grim. The youngest prince, Thorin, turned gravely towards the king, his eyes dark. "Goblins have been seen roaming the mountains," the king continued, "And large spider-like creatures have been seen near Dol Guldur. This is quite near to your borders, Thranduil," he added suddenly, turning his bright eyes to my father, "Are you willing to dispatch soldiers to rid these lands of them?"

My father rose slowly, acutely aware of every pair of eyes on him. His piercing eyes stayed on those of the dwarf king, and I shifted uncomfortably at the expression in them. "I do not wish to send my kin into such a cursed place so unprotected," he said, drawing each syllable out slowly and precisely. "Perhaps if my soldiers were… better equipped, we could speak of it differently."

"Perhaps," the king said, twisting one of his many rings. He frowned, and for a moment I saw a darkness hovering over him like a cloud, glittering ominously. I blinked and it was gone, but the uneasy feeling remained. I squeezed Legolas' hand, more afraid than I had been at all that day. Suddenly the mountain did not seem so welcoming. "We could discuss a form of payment for you and your men. Perhaps armor? Or weapons?"

My father opened his mouth to speak, his eyes glinting greedily. I knew what he would ask for: _mithril_. Before he could utter a sound, however, the youngest prince stepped forward, cutting him off with a glare. He glanced around distrustfully before turning to the king.

"Rik, ek d'gronit…" Prince Thorin bent and began speaking in his grandfather's ear, muttering in a language I did not know. The king frowned as Prince Thráin stepped up and began speaking as well. After a minute, he brushed his heirs aside and stood.

"Be silent, both of you," the king murmured. "I will speak to you later." Thrór ran a hand over the golden arm of his throne, tracing patterns over the gems inlaid there. "My guests," he said. A strange lilt filled his voice, a sound I somehow recognized as madness. "I will discuss payment with you later, though helping your _allies_ should not be considered a chore." My father sank back into his seat, his eyes narrowed at the now smirking dwarf princes. "However, another matter is upon us. Saruman the White has called the Kings and Lords from each nation and great city to meet with the Council and discuss what to do about this growing threat."

"Saruman has ordered this?" It was Girion who spoke. He stood and placed a weathered hand on his son's shoulder. He turned and faced the room. "Since when has Saruman been concerned with what happens on our borders?" All eyes turned to the young Lord, who steadily grew angrier and angrier. "And even if he is truly sincere, what does he expect us to do? Do we leave our border and lands without a leader until we return?" He gave a cold laugh. "Rather, _if_ we return? Saruman has _never_ shown interest in any eastern lands. Why would he start now?"

He sat, and the room grew quiet. Everyone seemed started by the lord's outburst. Some wore thoughtful expressions, while others seemed mutinous. Several of the elves murmured to one another. I stood, shaking, and laced my fingers together behind my back. All eyes turned to me. "King Thrór," I began, my voice a squeak. I cleared my throat and started over, my confidence building with each word. I ignored the rage radiating off my father and instead focused on the dwarf lords before me. "King Thrór, has Saruman the White ever summoned any of you before to this… council?"

The old king, now seated once again on his throne, shook his head. His eyes shone with amusement. I could not tell if he was humoring me by answering my questions or if he was truly engaging me in conversation. "No, he has not. He rarely comes to my halls, and when he _does_ it is to ask for riches for his tower." He all but spat the last few words.

"And what of the rest of you?" I asked, looking towards Girion and my father.

Girion shook his head but remained seated. "It is as I said before, Princess," he replied. His face sagged with weariness, but he seemed intrigued that someone so young would take such an interest in political matters. "Saruman does not show interest in our lands unless he wants something in return."

My father stood, towering over me, and I took a step back. My eyes widened when I caught sight of the murderous expression in his, and I gulped. Legolas tensed next to me but did not stand. "Elfling," Thranduil hissed, looking down his nose at me, "You are reckless and foolish and should not have been allowed at this gathering." I glared at him as a warm flush rose on my neck. I could feel my hands shaking. Several of the men murmured their disapproval at my treatment. Thranduil's eyes flashed, and I knew he heard them. He swung his head around, his voice taking on a more placid tone. "However, you bring up a valid point. _Why_ would the White Wizard choose now to summon us to the council he has never before allowed us to attend? Saruman has never graced _my_ realm with his presence. Why would he start now?"

"He wouldn't," a new voice announced. Heads twisted around to see whom this new figure was. I tilted my head in confusion as an elderly man in grey robes strode towards us, coming from the back of the room. His staff made a pleasant click whenever it struck the floor. When he reached us, he stopped a swords' length away from me and bowed to king Thrór. "_I_ did," he finished, straightening.

I blinked in amazement as I realized who this man was. The grey robes, the twisted oaken staff, the obvious reverence the leaders in the room held for him; this must be the Grey Wizard, one of the members of the council. No one else in the room moved; it was as if they were under a spell.

I was the first, and the only. "Mithrandir," I spoke nervously, curtsying.

He turned to me, a wide smile on his face. "Well now," he laughed, eyes twinkling. "I am glad to see that at least one of you remembers my name," he said, patting my shoulder. "Although I don't recall meeting you before."

The spell broke. "She is my daughter," father said, grabbing my shoulder and yanking me backwards. "What do you mean that _you_ have summoned the council? Only Saruman has that power."

"You are, as always, incorrect, Thranduil," Mithrandir said, turning away from my father. He might have missed the way the elf king's face turned purple with suppressed fury, but them again: he did have quite the satisfied smile upon his face. "But I did not come here to speak with you. Rather, I came to speak with king Thrór. The rest of you just happened to be here already."

"And what is it you want, Tharkûn?" Thrór asked, watching the wizard carefully. Mithrandir turned to him.

"I wish for you to spread out your wealth," he said, seemingly unaware of the dangerous territory he had just entered into. "Divide it among the three kingdoms present, but do not hoard it call in your great halls."

The king looked sideways at his son and grandson, whose faces were hard as stone. He turned back to the wizard, his cheeks growing ruddy with anger.

"I refuse," the king said angrily, voice rising alarmingly. "I will not go to your meeting, Tharkûn, and I will not decimate my kingdom at the word of an old man!"

I stood dumbfounded and did not resist when my brother stood and grabbed my arm, leading me from the hall. _"This is not a safe place, sister,"_ he whispered. _"You do not wish to be near an angered wizard."_ I noticed that he also was bringing Bain, the son of Girion, with us. I looked up at my brother questioningly. _"His father asked me to take him," _he said,_ "I—"_

The wizard yelled, and I jumped. Legolas moved faster. How long did this corridor stretch? The walk seemed to take forever. As my foot touched the threshold, my mind went blank. A roaring filled my ears like that of a swollen river. A voice entered my head, and what seemed to me like a poem sounded, clear and bright. "_The King beneath the mountains, The King of carven stone, The lord of silver fountains Shall come into his own!_ _His crown shall be upholden,_ _His harp shall be restrung,_ _His halls shall echo golden_ _The songs of yore re-sung._ _The woods shall wave on mountains_ _And grass beneath the sun; His wealth shall flow in fountains And the rivers golden run. The streams shall run in gladness, The lakes shall shine and burn, All sorrow fail and sadness At the Mountain-king's return!"_

"Aeyera!"

My eyes snapped open and I sat up so quickly that I nearly cracked my head on my brother's. I lay in a bed in a room of stone, and the Grey Wizard stood at the foot of the bed.

_"Princess, how do you feel?"_ he asked.

I groaned and pressed the heels of my hands to my temples. My head throbbed. _"Mithrandir… what happened?"_

_ "I suspect, my dear, that you hold the gift of Far Sight. Do not be alarmed," _he added. _"For although it is not a common gift, it is not harmful. What did you see?"_

_ "I heard a-a song," _I told him. I repeated it to him. He frowned thoughtfully. _"What does it mean?"_

_ "I do not know yet, my dear," _he said, frowning down at the floor. He held a ruby the size of a marble, and he rolled it back and forth as he spoke. It stopped. _"I do not know."_


	5. Chapter 5

I sat upon my bed thinking a decade later. The time had flown by, as I was told it would for the next few thousand years or so. In the time since my… episode in Erebor, my _father _had spoken to me a handful of times, always to scold me. I avoided him as often as I could. Earlier that year I passed out of childhood, and I had the look and sights of a teenage human. I looked, of course, like an elf: but immature. Also, I was short in stature. I stood shorter than my brother's shoulder. Because of this, and a handful of other reasons, I had not yet found my One.

A couple of the young elves nearby had begun courting, and it was nice to see as couple so in love. My heart ached. I sighed and rested my chin on my knees. _'I wonder if I will ever find love,' _I thought. _'It must be wonderful to fond your One.'_

_"Aeyera,"_ Legolas called softly, knocking on the door of my chambers and breaking me out of my thoughts. I looked up, eyes glassy.

I stood, smoothing out my tunic and wiping my eyes. _"Come in,"_ I called back, very glad to finally have company. Because so many feared my father, I did not have many companions. There were a few exceptions, such as some of the archers I practiced with. They fought in Thranduil's army, and were excellent warriors and friends. I had finished training with them several hours before and had not yet changed from my sparring tunic and leggings. My bow and quiver hung beside my door.

My brother opened the door and shut it quietly behind him before moving to sit on my bed. I returned to my seat beside him, and he took my hands in his. _"Aeyera… something's happened," _he told me, not meeting my eyes.

I frowned. What had happened? Whatever the case, his behavior was scaring me. _"Legolas?"_ I asked, worried. _"What happened? What's wrong?"_

Silence reigned over the room. The midday sunlight warmed my room. _"A dragon," _he said, finally meeting my eyes. They were filled with regret_. "A dragon has attacked Erebor."_

I sat frozen, thinking back to the young prince I had met so long ago, how kind he was to me. And the king, he had looked so happy, surrounded by his family. I thought about what I knew of dragons and felt sick. The very thought of those kind people being slaughtered and burned made me feel as though I were about to throw up. I leaped to my feet and raced towards the door. I pulled on my cloak and grabbed my bow and quiver, slinging them over my shoulder.

_"Where are you going?"_ My brother asked, rising to his feet.

I turned back to look at him, blood pounding in my ears. _"I cannot leave these people to this fate,"_ I said, one hand resting on the handle of the door_. "They need someone to help them."_

_"Father has already left with an army early this morning when the dragon was sighted, before it attacked,"_ Legolas said, spreading his hands in supplication. He seemed confused: he didn't know how to keep me from leaving. He couldn't. _"One elfling will not make a difference in the turn of a battle."_

_"Thranduil went to the aid of the dwarves?"_ I repeated, dumbstruck_. "Since when has he cared for the fortune or misfortune of others? He has acted like a coward these past years, sitting in his halls and not caring for any people besides his own."_

_"Aeyera,"_ Legolas chastised gently, _"Do not speak about our father like that. He cares for us."_ I scoffed, crossing my arms. _"Yes, if going to help someone does not benefit us, he would not do it, but that does not make him a coward!"_

I did not reply but instead opened the door and bolted down the hall, ignoring my brother's shouts. Several of my people leapt out of my way, muttering about foolhardy children. The stables came into view as I rounded the corner_. "Prepare my horse,"_ I shouted, flying towards the stall_. "Quickly!"_

I rushed to the store closet and grabbed my saddle pack, which already held my knives along with provisions and water. The stable boy led my mare out of her stall, in full gear for my afternoon ride. I leapt onto the horse and urged the mare into a gallop without thanking the young elf.

She flew out the door, which the young elf had wisely opened already, and I rode low on her neck as we crossed the bridge, flying through the path through the woods. I allowed her to run free, for she knew where to run. Something was wrong with the air, and it was a moment before I realized what it was. Smoke. When I rode with my father to Erebor the decade before, we had moved quickly, but not at a full gallop. Within two hours I exited the forest and was greeted by a sight that burned itself into my memory for the rest of my life. Erebor was on fire. I could see a great beast tearing its way through the front gates. From here the creature appeared small in stature, but I had visited the mountain. I had stood in its shadow. I knew how large the creature must be, and it terrified me.

I could see the glint of armor much closer to the mountain, and I urged my horse to go faster. She complied, and we sped off, faster than the wind. I steered her along the river towards army, fear growing in my heart. Within another hour I reached the fringes of the army. Many of the elves were on foot, and I wondered how they all had reached the mountain so quickly. Had they run?

The familiar sight of a great antlered elk caught my eye, and I urged my mare towards it, and towards the figure atop it. Several elves cheered when they saw me.

"_Ada_!" I yelled, riding up to where he sat still on his great hart, overlooking the desolation of the dragon but doing nothing. He stared down at them with an unreadable expression. "_Father, what are you doing__?__"_

_"I will not fight the dragon,"_ he said softly, looking down at the dying people below us.

I stared at him in shock, unable to move. Blood turned to ice in my veins. Had I misheard him? No, my heart would not clench with fear if I had misheard. How could he be so cowardly? _"You would leave them?"_ I asked incredulously. _"You would leave, an innocent people—to die?" _My vision turned red as he turned his deer around, urging he army to go home. _"You are a fool!"_ I screamed. _"You are a tyrant! How dare you call yourself a king!?" _The screams and cries of a thousand dying souls reached my ears. I could see several soldiers hesitating, looking between their king and their princess. Thranduil did not cease the retreat. I screamed so loudly that my throat nearly tore. _"Coward!"_

I heard the shouts of the young prince below, calling for help. "Help us!" His voice was desperate, pleading. I turned and locked eyes with him. My horse refused to go down the ravine, so I leapt off and began running down myself. As I took my first steps forward, a vice-like hand grabbed my arm and plucked me from the ground and into another saddle. I yelled and struggled against the strong hold of the elf warrior, and for a moment, the despairing eyes of the young prince met mine. I stopped struggling as the elven soldier turned around. I opened my mouth, grieving, and a tear fell down my cheek. "_Ánin apsenë," _I whispered. _Forgive me._

I felt his gaze on my back as we rode away. I knew with freezing certainty that he wouldn't forget my face, and I shuddered to think that he would be angry with me should we meet again. My body was numb with shock, and I couldn't have struggled even if I had wanted to. However, I saw a battalion of my people rushing back towards the mountain. I saw my father—I saw Thranduil screaming at them. I felt his burning gaze as it locked on mine.

_"Aeyera,"_ said my brother's voice in my ear, _"You were a fool to speak out against our father."_

_"He is no father of mine,"_ I spat. I pulled myself free of his grip and whistled to his mount, bringing it to a halt. I climbed off and pulled myself onto my horse, which had obediently followed me. _"I will not return with you, __Legolas,__"_ I said sadly, looking up at my brother. _"I must find my own way."_

He gazed at me sadly and gripped his reigns tightly. _"Is there no way to change your mind, sister?"_ he asked.

I shook my head. _"I refuse to live in the of one who would not give aid to another."_

He sighed and closed his eyes against the pain of losing his only sister. _"Take this,"_ he said, pulling a ring from his finger and passing it to me. _"To remember us by." _I looked up at him as I placed it on my finger and reached over, embracing him.

_"Thank you, Legolas. I will see you again someday,"_ I said. _"I promise."_

We urged our horses forward._ "Where will you go?"_

_"I don't know." _I looked out over at the mountains beyond the Greenwood. _"Maybe I will find a new land to save,"_ I smiled, although it vanished as I remembered the mountain behind me. We had ridden for an hour, and the screams had passed out even of my own hearing.

_"Good luck, Princess,"_ my brother said, bowing his head to me. We rode in silence for hours with much to say but no way to say it. At the edge of the forest we separated. With one last look, I rode off to the south, away from the Woodland Realm.

I did not know it then, but it would be nearly two centuries before I would speak to my brother again, and never again would I be welcomed home.


	6. Chapter 6

**Revised on December 26, 2014**

One hundred and seventy one years later, I stood overlooking a land called the Shire. Much had happened in my years spent away from home. I travelled with a group of rangers until a year or so ago; they are a wise folk, somber and grave, but loyal and fierce all the same. They are descended from the kings of Gondor who lived long before even my brother was born.

I banished the thought of my brother from my head, which is what I had been doing for the last century or so. It was all I could do to keep from going home to see Legolas again, but I know that my father waits there with him, so I stay away. Many years ago, I passed too close to the edge of the Greenwood and was turned away by my kin, who warned me against entering the woods again.

In all my time with the rangers, there was only one who I truly befriended. He went by the name of Arathorn, and we fought together for many years. But as all good things do, our time together ended. All the rangers I once knew, except for Arathorn and a few others, have passed on. Even he went away, for his wife bore him a son, whose form seems to gleam with a reverent light whether in light or darkness. This boy was christened Aragorn, and now looks older than I, though I remain two centuries his elder.

Despite my age, I still possessed the looks of a very young elf. Even my height was stunted; I looked more like a dwarf than an elf. I stood at a little over five feet in height, something unheard of for elves, who towered over the other races.

I had met none that could help me, but there was one I thought might. This one was Lord Elrond of Rivendell, who coincidentally has been absent both times I had travelled to Imladris.

The sound of laughter reached my ears and I smiled, tucking a stray curl behind my ear. The hobbit folk, from what I had seen, were quite a merry people. I had not heard of them before joining the rangers, and now I was quite eager to see them.

The Shire, which was their home, was lovely and pure, untouched by the evils marring the rest of the world. The rolling hills were blanketed in bright green grass, and small homes were dug into the hillsides, adorned with flowerbeds, gardens, and round, colorful doors. The Halflings moved here and there, pulling their animals along with them or farming their land. My horse Athelas passed on many years ago, but I now cared for a strong stallion by the name of Gwairoch, named after the legendary elven steeds of old. He currently stood next to me, nuzzling the ground for something to eat.

"A fine day, don't you think?" A deep voice asked, interrupting my thoughts. I turned my head, not allowing my drawn hood to reveal my pointed ears.

"Aye," I answered, taking a deep breath. "It is quite beautiful."

The old man slid off his horse, stroking her neck softly before moving to stand next to me. "If you don't mind me asking," the old man commented lightly, pulling out a pipe. "What is the princess of the Greenwood doing in the Shire?"

I froze and snuck a glance at the man from behind my hood. He was old and grey, clad in gray robes with a blue hat atop his head. His bright eyes were fixed on me, and his long beard trembled with concealed mirth.

"Mithrandir!" I exclaimed, leaping forward and hugging the old wizard tightly.

He laughed jovially and patted my back with one hand. The top of my head barely came up to his chest. "My dear princess, it is a pleasure to see you again," he said happily as I pulled away. "It has been a long time, Aeyera," he said, smiling. A slightly concerned look crossed his face as he took in my young features. "Nearly two hundred years have passed since our last meeting, haven't they?"

I nodded and stepped back to pull my horse away from a hobbit's rather unfortunate rose bush. The conversation was beginning to reach an area I wished to leave untouched. "Yes… it has been a long time."

"And yet still you look like an elf who has barely come of age."

I gritted my teeth. _'As if I wanted to be reminded that I was different. That I looked to be an immature elfling.'_

He continued speaking, either oblivious to my discomfort or choosing to ignore it. "I have visited your father several times over the years, Aeyera," the wizard said. I looked away, angered by the wizard's audacity and probing words. "And your brother has asked me quite frequently if there has been any word from you." His voice took on a sharper tone, and I could feel him glaring at me. "I have had to disappoint him far too many times for my liking." I had turned away by now and had moved my gaze back to the Shire. It had not lost its beauty, but I felt somewhat detached now, as if its beauty wasn't for me. "Your family misses you, princess," he said softly.

"What family?" I asked, my voice low and churning with the anger I had tried for two hundred years to hold back. "My brother is my family, and he let me leave. I am grateful that he did, and I am glad to hear he is safe. My mother died when I was very young. My father… he died with my mother. An elf I do not know sits on the throne of Mirkwood, and I owe nothing to him." I all but spat this at min, and the wizard stood, seemingly speechless.

"Why haven't you grown?" the old man asked, effectively changing the subject.

I sighed, rubbing my forehead. I had wondered that for seventeen decades and had never received an answer, and I asked the same question every day about my height. "I don't know," I said wearily, turning from the Shire. It had lost its charm, and the Grey Havens still called to me. I pulled myself onto my horse and turned him towards the sea.

"And where do you think you're going?" the wizard called after me, sounding amused. The sun beat down on me, making sweat trickle down my neck. I threw my hood back, enjoying the sudden breeze.

"It does not matter," I replied, not bothering to look back.

"Do not walk away from me, elfling," he said, his voice taking on a much more sinister tone. I leapt off the horse and turned to face him, furious at the degrading term he used to refer to me. "Why do you continue to wander the wild?" he asked. "To never stay in one place? Most elves your age have found their One; why haven't you?"

I stepped back, hurt, and felt tears prick at the corners of my eyes. "It's not as if I have a home! I do not have something I was meant to do, like Legolas! I am not a warrior, nor one who has a trade!" I shouted at him. Turning my grief into anger was something I was good at by now. "My family does not care about me! I have nowhere to go! No one wants to love someone like me!" At this point, my voice was closer to a shriek than it had ever been.

"My young elf," the old man said, not unkindly, bending down to meet my eye. "What ever happened to the small child who wanted nothing more than to please her father and to play with her brother, shooting her bow and climbing in the treetops?"

"I don't know," I said, shaking my dark curly hair back and pulling it over my shoulder. "She's gone, I supposed."

"No, I do not think that's it," he said. He smiled gently and placed a gnarled hand on my shoulder. "I think she only got lost. And I think it's high time she is found." I looked at him questioningly. "How would you like to go on an adventure?"

"An adventure?" I repeated, moving out of the way for a young hobbit chasing after a butterfly. His carefree aura made me smile. His bright eyes were wide, a smile stretching across his fair face as he cut across a field.

"Yes," he said seriously, transferring his staff to his other hand. "You need to do something with your life, princess, and like it or not, an adventure would be good for you."

"I don't know, Mithrandir," I said hesitantly, "I don't…"

"You yelled at me quite recently that you wanted a purpose, did you not?" he asked, ignoring the way I flushed with embarrassment. "And now I offer you one. I believe you were one of the few elves to try and help the dwarves of Erebor, were you not?"

My head shot up in surprise. "How did you—?"

"It does not matter how I know," he replied sharply. "But only that I know it."

"What kind of adventure?" I asked, weary of this conversation, which was by far the longest one I had held in several months. His answer shocked me.

"One that will allow the King Under the Mountain to take back Erebor."


	7. Chapter 7

**Revised on December 29, 2014**

I stood, shocked, and stared at the elderly wizard as if I expected him to laugh and tell me he was jesting. I had no such luck. "The king… the King Under the… the Mountain…" I muttered, dazed. I held a hand to my head to keep it from spinning. It had been centuries since I heard that title, and it sounded foreign on my tongue although the words were once as natural to me as the sun in the sky and the grass on the ground.

"I know it may come as a shock to you to hear of this after so long," the old man said kindly, "but it is time. The King must reclaim his home."

The prophecy—for I now am certain of what it was—echoed in my mind. _'The lord of silver fountains…'_

"Mithrandir," I managed, pinching the bridge of my nose and squeezing my eyes shut. My head began to ache. "How can this be? Surely the line of Durin ended long before we met today."

"And so many have been led to believe. However, you know the truth, Princess," he said, a gleam in his eye. "You saw the prince escape the mountain that day."

A memory flashed in my mind, brief—but so real it was as if I were living it again.

_"I stare at my father in shock, unable to move. How could anyone be so cowardly as to doom an entire race to this fate? Anger fills my veins, and before my mind registers my actions, I am yelling at the king, something I would never have done if I were in my right mind. _

_ 'How can you be so cowardly?' I scream. 'These people have done nothing to you; they have been nothing but gracious to you! How can you sit back and do nothing?!'_

_ He does not respond but instead turns his stag from the mountain, leading the army away. "Coward!" I scream, tears and smoke stinging my eyes. I can hear the shouts of the young dwarf prince below, calling for help. _

_ Smoke fills the air, and I gag on the stench of burned flesh that fills the air. I turn towards Erebor and try to ride down to the aid of the dwarves, but a strong pair of arms grabs me and lifts me off my horse and onto another before I can start the descent into the ravine. _

_ I shriek in panic and try to break free, but the arms hold me fast. I yell and struggle against the strong hold of the elf warrior, and for a moment, the despairing blue eyes of the young prince meet mine. I open my mouth, grieving for his people, and a tear falls down my cheek at the sight of such a strong warrior brought so low. "I'm so sorry," I whisper, staring into his eyes. Forgive me._

_ He stares at me, hurt and anguish evident in his gaze. As I watch, his grief turns to hate, and it is directed at me. I know with freezing certainty that he won't forget my face, and I shudder, knowing that he will blame me should we meet again."_

"You want me to help the grandson of Thror reclaim his throne," I clarified slowly, processing the information. How can this be? I felt as though the Valar were offering me a second chance, but at the same time a death sentence.

"Yes," the wizard said, watching me carefully. I wondered if he knew what I was thinking. "And I believe that you are the only elf he would allow to help him do so."

"And why is that, Mithrandir?" I asked wearily, stroking the mane of my horse as he rubbed his muzzle against my arm. I pressed my forehead against his cheek, closing my eyes. Surely this could not be happening…

"Because you are the one elf in Middle Earth who tried to help him," the man replied. I remained silent. There was no guarantee that the prince would remember me, and even if he did, he would not likely trust me simply because of my lineage. Who would ask for or want the aid of their enemy's child?

"I was not the only one, Mithrandir," I said softly, opening my eyes. "I heard in Rivendell that others came to his aid after I was pulled from the mountain. Is that true?"

He sighed, suddenly looking much older. "Yes. But no one has heard from them since. Some believe to have seen them at the battle of Azanulbizar. I believe this, and I also believe that they perished there, fighting with and for the dwarves they sacrificed so much for. Thorin may know of this."

"Can you guarantee that he will remember me, wizard?" I asked, looking up at him again. My gaze was hard and cold as I retreated within myself. If Thorin had forgotten me, or if he refused my help... "That he will accept my help?"

"No," he said. "I cannot. However, my presence in the room may be enough to convince him that you are on his side. That is, if you can keep that temper of yours in check."

"I do not have a temper!" I barked irritably. He raised his eyebrows at me but said nothing, and I flushed, glaring at the lake nearby.

"As I said," Mithrandir said, sounding amused, "Keep your temper in check, and we may be able to convince our prince to bring you along."

"And if we cannot convince him?" I pushed, curious as to how the wizard would convince a dwarf to allow an elf on his quest. I felt that he would be more likely to give up on the quest altogether than to invite me along.

He peered at me from under his hat, his mouth quirked in a smile. "Then you will come anyway," he said, as if the answer were blatantly obvious.

"Mithrandir…" I did not know what to say. Refusing would get me nowhere, I knew, but accepting…

"Where were you these last few decades?" the wizard asked suddenly. I glared up at him, suddenly angry. The day turned cold, at least to me, and I suddenly wanted nothing more than to attack him. The wizard noticed and straightened, looking down at me solemnly.

"I will not force you to come on this venture," he informed me stiffly. "However, I would strongly advise you to at least attend the meeting tonight." He plowed on before I could say a word in response. "It will be held at a lovely place by the name of Bag End, and our host goes by the name of Bilbo Baggins. My mark lies on the door, you cannot possibly miss it. I will see you tonight, I hope."

He turned and grabbed his horse's reins. Without another word he strode away, whistling, leaving me stunned. _'Tonight? I have to make a life altering decision by _tonight_?!'_

Grumbling, I turned and mounted Gwairoch, who began trotting towards what appeared to be the center of the Shire. The Shire began blurring together; all hobbit holes and meadows appeared to be the same. By the time I reached the main square, I was in a worse mood than ever. How did I plan on winning over a _dwarf_; even the hobbits seemed to be avoiding me!

I dismounted and led Gwairoch to a hitching post, looping his reins once loosely around it. He nickered softly and nudged his velvety nose against my hand. He truly was a magnificent animal; his liquid eyes looked into mine with the same intensity of the wizard's. I sighed, stroking his neck. Why me?

I kissed his nose and went inside the nearest building, a quaint place by the name of The Green Dragon. It was not brightly lit, being the middle of the afternoon, but I could tell by the amount of chairs that the place must be quite popular. A female hobbit came up to me, smiling shyly. Despite my being short for an elf, I still stood at least a half a foot taller than the largest Halfling, and this one was no exception.

"Hello," she said softly, brown eyes glinting in the half-light. Her voice was kind, and I could tell that she was nervous. She looked to be quite young, probably still in her tweens. "Welcome to The Green Dragon. Is there anything I could get for you, Miss…?"

"Aeyera," I said automatically, lowering my voice so as to not overpower that of the hobbit. I pushed my hood back off my head, letting my brown curls spill over my shoulders. "And you are?"

She blushed happily. "I am called Lilliana," she said. "My family owns this inn."

I bowed my head respectfully, much to Lilliana's delight. "Might I stay here for a while?" I asked, eyeing her curiously. "I have to be somewhere tonight, but until then I have nowhere to go."

She nodded eagerly. "Oh, of course, Miss Aeyera!" She rushed around, setting up a table in the brightest corner for me. She looked up, her brown eyes turning gold as a ray of sunlight hit them. "Would you like something to drink?"

I moved to sit at the table she provided, moving to the chair facing the door. "Yes, please," I told her, smiling. "If you have any food, that would be welcome as well; I have travelled a long way."

She nodded, positively giddy with delight. I wondered if I was the first person she ever had served. She appeared a moment later, balancing a tray on one arm and carrying a pitcher of water in the opposite hand. I stood to help her, but she shook her head. "I've got it," she assured me, beaming. I nodded, sitting back, and let her fill my flagon with fresh water. The tray held fresh bread, fruit, and vegetables. I smiled at her, leaning back.

"Would you stay?" I asked. Her eyes lit up. "I haven't had much company lately," I explained vaguely. "I would like a chance to talk to someone."

She grinned, her red curls bouncing as she came forward and sat across from me. "I would love to," she said happily. I took a bite of the bread. "Are you an elf?" she asked solemnly. I nodded, swallowing. "Wow," she breathed, eyes as big as saucers. "I've always wanted to meet one!" she blushed. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to gawk at you, I've just always wanted to meet an elf; I have so many questions!"

I laughed, genuinely pleased to see that she was so awestruck by what I was: most would run away. "Like what?" I asked, smiling. "I will answer all that I can."

"Really?" she squealed. I nodded, taking a sip of water. "Alright, well, do you really live in trees?"

I sat back, relaxing. "Many of us do," I told her. "Others live in houses of stone."

"Which do you live in?" she asked eagerly. I felt my smile slip for a moment but quickly brought it back, hoping she didn't notice.

"I live under the stars," I responded thoughtfully. "With no roof but the sky and branches of trees."

"Do you live alone?" she asked. She was frowning slightly, her brown eyes large and innocent. I wondered if she was even in her tweens yet; teens would probably be a more accurate assumption.

"I didn't use to," I replied. "But right now I am." _'If tonight goes well, I won't be alone anymore,'_ I thought.

"Why? Don't you have a family?"

"I do," I answered, feeling a great sadness grow within my heart. "But I have not seen them in many years."

"Why not?" Her enormous brown eyes were sad, and she looked confused. Her lip trembled.

_'Because they do not want me.' _Instead, I laughed, hoping it sounded real. Lilliana perked up slightly. "Do not worry, Lilliana," I replied lightly, ignoring the way my heart ached. "I have lived so long; it does not seem like any time has passed at all."

"How old _are _you?" she asked, sadness forgotten.

The afternoon passed quickly in this way. The young hobbit asked many questions, some I answered quickly, some I could not answer at all. Many I could answer only because of what I had learned in my first few decades in Middle Earth; others I guessed. When The Green Dragon began to fill, I looked to Lilliana, who looked both exhausted and content.

"I am afraid I must go," I told her, handing her several coins, which she took carefully. "I have a meeting I cannot miss."

She jumped to her feet, exhaustion forgotten. Her mother, a plump, delightful hobbit who was elated to have finally met an elf, had whisked my plate away some hours ago. Lilliana grabbed my head and led me through the growing crowd to the door. We walked outside into the warm, fresh air. I closed my eyes for a moment, enjoying the cool breeze that blew, ruffling my hair. I opened my eyes as Lilliana appeared, leading Gwairoch forward. She looked nervous around the horse, but patted his nose all the same. The sun was nearly gone; streaks of pink and gold clouds raced across the sky. The first few stars were beginning to appear, the sky darkening in the East.

"Lilliana," I said, bending down a bit to look her in the eye. "It had truly been a pleasure to have met you." She beamed at me. "I must ask a favor of you."

She smiled. "Anything, Miss Aeyera!"

"Can you tell me where Master Bilbo Baggins lives?" I asked.

She giggled. "In Bag End, of course," she said, still smiling. "Four hills that way! My brother and I painted his door green for him last week!" She pointed, telling me to avoid the house with the brown door and to definitely be polite to poor Master Baggins, since he was so very fond of his garden. She told me quite seriously not to pick any of his flowers; even if I _am_ an elf, he wouldn't like it. She hugged me, told me to come back whenever I wanted, and stepped aside, waving to me as I mounted Gwairoch and headed up the road.

I followed Lilliana's directions until I came to a green door. By then, the sun had fully set, and the stars had come out in earnest, winking down at me from their heavenly perches. I dismounted from Gwairoch and led him around to stand in Master Baggins's garden. "Do not eat his flowers," I whispered to him. I began to feel very nervous. I was about to meet the one dwarf who I knew with barely a shadow of a doubt would hate me more than anyone else.

I walked until I stood outside Master Baggins's door. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, doing my best to calm my nerves. I rang the bell handing beside it, all the while staring down at Mithrandir's mark upon the door. It glowed blue, beckoning to me. I released the breath I had been holding.

I stepped back as very disgruntled hobbit answered the door, looking startled to see me. I bowed, bringing my cloak around behind me. "Aeyera of the Greenwood," I said, straightening and brushing a loose strand of hair out of my face, "You must be Master Baggins."

The shocked hobbit bowed back, taking in my pointed ears and bright eyes as he did so. "I am," he said. "Are you… are you an elf?"

"I am… is Mithrandir here?" I asked, my voice strong.

He frowned. "Who?"

"Gandalf," I replied hurriedly, remembering that the Hobbits had another name for him than most other races. "Is Gandalf here?"

Master Baggins nodded, the irritated look returning. "May I come in and see him?" I questioned, my voice softening. The hobbit nodded, his posture becoming less tense, and moved out of my way so I could enter his home. He shut the door behind me, although I could barely hear it over my pounding heart. I could barely take in the hobbit hole, I was so nervous. Nearly as nervous as the halfling, I decided, who looked as though he might pass out.

A feast seemed to be going on in the next room, and I took a step towards it, wondering if I should interrupt. The Grey Wizard appeared in one of the doorways as soon as the thought crossed my mind, beaming. "Ah, Aeyera," he said, his voice low as of to not alert the others I was here. "I'm glad you could make it."

Bilbo was muttering under his breath, looking furious. Not, though, at me.

"My dear Bilbo, what on earth is the matter?" the wizard asked, smiling knowingly and winking at me. I leaned against the curved wall of the hallway, watching the pair speak.

"What's the matter?" the stunned hobbit repeated angrily. I looked around, doing my best to ignore their conversation, having no wish to intrude. The hobbit continued to rant at the wizard for some time before concluding, "I don't understand what they're doing in my house!"

I turned my head to stare at the old magician before bending to look behind him at the room hidden behind his back. "Who else is here, Mithrandir?" I asked, looking back at the wizard. "I thought it was you and I and the prince, as well as Master Baggins."

"Not exactly," the wizard began, straightening as much as he could.

"S'cuse me—" a young voice came from behind Gandalf.

The wizard grabbed my hood and yanked it up, covering my head before turning to the dwarf behind him. Dwarf. _'Of course,'_ I realized, on the verge of panic. _'Thorin would not be making his journey alone.'_ The exasperated hobbit turned to face him as well, and I shrunk back into the shadows.

"I'm sorry to interrupt," the young dwarf said politely, holding out his plate carefully, "But what should I do with my plate?"

A golden-haired dwarf strode in from a side hall. I jumped at his sudden appearance, shrinking back against the stone. It took a moment for me to realize that he and I stood at the same height. I was afraid, I realized. I was alone, outnumbered, and terrified. "Here you go, Ori, give it to me," he said, taking the plate from the shorter dwarf. Without a second's delay, he threw the plate, causing the wizard to scramble out of the way to avoid it.

Another dwarf, dark, taller than most others I'd seen in my life, caught it and threw it behind him. A moment later, he caught another pottery projectile, sending it on its way without a second thought. I couldn't help but take a second glance at this dwarf. His dark hair was partially pulled back, but loose strands framed his young face. He didn't have a long beard like most dwarves; rather, he had a short, scruffy beard that was rather attractive.

I froze, mortified, as my cheeks began to burn. What in the world…? I turned to speak to the wizard, only to find that he had gone. I began to panic and search though the house as the dwarves began singing, stomping their feet in time to the music. I continued my search, avoiding the majority of the dwarves.

I finally found the wizard at a table in a cramped room with the majority of the dwarves, where plates still flew through the air. I moved to stand beside the laughing wizard, a slight smile forming on my face as well. None of the dwarves seemed to have noticed me, which I found rather odd.

"… That's what Bilbo Baggins hates!" They laughed jovially at Bilbo as he burst into the room. His bewildered expression upon seeing the pile of clean and whole dishes on the table made my frightened shell disappear, and I began to laugh with the rest. Gandalf sat down, still chuckling, but the smiles on every face disappeared at the sound of a fist banging against the hobbit's door. Once, twice, three times it sounded, and then there was silence.

Mithrandir turned to the dwarves, who stood frozen in place as if under an enchantment. "He is here," he whispered hoarsely. A chill came over me. The young prince—would he remember me? I could not decide whether I wanted him to remember my face or not.

The wizard and the other dwarves moved to open the door behind which Thorin stood. I moved with them but stood in the back where I was least likely to be noticed. Thorin looked up as the door swung open, his face expressionless except for a small smile on his lips. "Gandalf," he commented nonchalantly.

I felt as though I had been punched in the gut, and I had to lean against a wall to keep from collapsing. Thorin looked almost exactly how I remembered him, but his eyes carried such regret and anger that I recoiled at the sight. "I thought you said this place would be easy to find," he said, stepping inside. "I lost my way, twice." I met Gandalf's eye from under the hood, and he shook his head minutely at me, warning me not to go anywhere. "I wouldn't have found it at all if it hadn't been for that mark on the door," he continued, taking of his cloak.

"Mark? There's no mark on that door, it was painted a week ago!" claimed Mr. Baggins worriedly, hurrying to inspect his door as Gandalf pushed it shut.

"There is a mark," the wizard corrected, turning so his back was against the door, preventing the frazzled hobbit from opening it. "I put it there myself. Bilbo Baggins, allow me to introduce the leader of our company, Thorin Oakenshield."

"So," Thorin said, stepping closer to Bilbo with an amused smirk on his face. "This is the hobbit. Tell me Mr. Baggins, have you done much fighting?" The prince circled the confused hobbit, looking him up and down.

"Pardon me?" he asked, frowning.

"How's your sword?" the dwarf asked gruffly, coming to a halt and crossing his arms. "What's your weapon of choice?"

"Well, I have some skill at conkers, if you must know," the hobbit said proudly, putting his hands on his hips. I wanted to melt into the stone out of embarrassment for him. A confused expression crossed his face as he backtracked. "But I fail to see how that's relevant."

"Thought as much," the prince said, turning his head to face the young, dark haired dwarf I had noticed earlier. "He looks more like a grocer than a burglar."

The other dwarves chuckled, and I frowned. I had never appreciated when jokes were made at another's expense; this was not an exception.

"Shall we make to the dining room?" An elderly dwarf with a long, white beard asked. "You must be hungry after such a long journey."

Thorin opened his mouth to respond, but Gandalf stepped up before he could speak. My stomach twisted. I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry. "Before you go," he said, glancing discretely at me, "There is one other member of your company I would like you to meet." Several pairs of curious eyes travelled to my hooded form, and my heart began to pound against my chest. "Thorin Oakenshield," Gandalf said, striding over to my frozen form and casting off my hood. "I would like you to meet Aeyera Greenleaf, Princess of the Greenwood."

I stared, completely immobilized, at the dwarf prince who looked back at me, just as stunned as I. He overcame his surprise quickly, however, and it quickly changed to anger.

I bowed, my hands shaking. "It has been a long time, prince," I said as I rose to face him. "You have changed little."

His icy blue eyes narrowed, and I became acutely aware of the fourteen other pairs of eyes watching me. "Should that name mean something to me?" he asked angrily. "Your name I do not know, but I do know your face. You are the coward who ran away from the mountain instead of helping my people. Tell me, Gandalf," he said, turning to the wizard. I could see him shaking with suppressed anger, his fists clenched. "Why is this _elf_ here?"

"Has it been so long that you do not recognize my face?" I asked, forcing my voice not to tremble. "Has it been so long since I visited your halls that you do not know me?"

A flicker of recognition crossed his face, and his eyes softened for a fraction of a second. "You are the daughter of Thranduil," he said slowly, recalling a memory long forgotten. "The one who addressed me directly." His blue eyes hardened once again as he raised them to glare into my green ones. "The one whose father scolded for not holding her tongue in the presence of the Kings of the West." My own eyes narrowed as waves of resentment washed over me. I had lost everything for him, how dare he— "I see you still have not learned your lesson," he added. The dam holding back my anger creaked and groaned, seconds from bursting. Thorin was saved by Gandalf, who swooped in and led him away, glancing at my pityingly. He left me to stand, shaking with anger and disbelief, in the midst of twelve dwarves who—if they were anything like their leader—wanted absolutely nothing to do with me.


	8. Chapter 8

**Revised on December 30, 2014**

I stood, fuming, for about five seconds before I realized what a dangerous situation I had been placed in. My anger drained away as I looked around, suddenly fearful for my life.

The eldest dwarf stepped forward. He approached me carefully, hands slightly raised, as one might do when approaching a skittish horse. There was no doubt in my mind that he had noticed my fear and now was trying to soothe it as best he knew how. If he was surprised by my height, he did not show it. "Princess," he said, giving me a small bow, "it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I am Balin, son of Fundin."

I managed a smile and curtsied, doing my best to calm my frayed nerves. "It is truly a pleasure, master dwarf," I said, "but I do not carry the title of Princess. It has been nearly two centuries since last I stepped foot in the Greenwood, and the elf on the throne is anything but my father."

The old dwarf looked momentary stunned but managed to recover fairly quickly, much to his credit. He leaned in towards me, lowering his voice. "No one can lose her title, lass," he said softly. "Thorin is living proof. He is a king without a kingdom, a prince without a people. However, he does not cease to be that which he was born to be."

"I did not lose my title," I answered, my voice soft and clear. My heart ached as I thought back to happier times, times before fire and death. I sighed; I could barely remember a time before the darkness. "I gave it up. I refused to be recognized as a part of the family of the one who abandoned a people to fire."

A look of remembrance crossed his face. "You were the elf warrior who tried to ride to our aid," he whispered, awed. Several of the dwarves behind him began to murmur, looking at me in a new light.

Gandalf chose that moment to poke his head around the doorframe and give us a smoldering glare. "Are you finished?" he asked, winking at me briefly to let me know he was not truly angry. The other dwarves nodded and marched back to the small room with the table. Many a glance was tossed my way as they passed me by. I followed, feeling slightly calmed.

"What news from the meeting in Ered Luin?" Balin was asking as I snuck quietly into the room, making little more noise than a mouse. I sat down at Gandalf's left hand. "Did they all come?"

Thorin put down his spoon, a shadow crossing his face. "Aye," Thorin said. "Envoys of all seven kingdoms." The dwarves murmured and laughed amongst themselves, cheered by this good news.

"And what do the dwarves of the Iron Hills say?" the dwarf to my left—the one with the tattooed head—asked, grinning. He leaned forward, eyes glinting in excitement. "Is Dain with us?"

Thorin took a deep breath and sighed, looking past me with sad eyes. "They will not come." The dwarf looked down, disappointed. "They say this quest is ours, and ours alone."

The room was silent for a moment as every dwarf retreated into his own mind, thinking. The few candles in the room sent shadows dancing across the walls of the hobbit hole. I looked around at the dwarves, studying them. I counted at least one pair of siblings among them: the dark and light dwarves from earlier—the ones who enjoyed tossing poor Master Baggins's pottery around.

Finally, the silence was broken. "You're going on a quest?" Bilbo piped up, looking interested. He stood at Thorin's shoulder, peering into the alcove we all sat inside.

Gandalf jerked as though he had been asleep and turned to the Halfling. "Bilbo, my dear fellow, let us have a little more light," he requested. Bilbo nodded and left the room.

Gandalf lowered his voice as Bilbo returned, bringing another candle to the table. He spread out a map, smoothing out the larger wrinkles. It was old; nearly as old as I, and was torn and tattered. The wizard began to speak in such a voice that I felt drawn to him, and I leaned forward. "Far to the East, over ranges and rivers, beyond woodlands and wastelands, lies a single solitary peak." His finger rested on an inked in drawing of a mountain, and I moved closer to Thorin's chair out of curiosity, although I already knew what I would see. The Lonely Mountain. The dark haired dwarf from before looked at me questioningly but said nothing; many of the others gave me curious looks or distrustful glares, both of which I ignored.

"The Lonely Mountain," Bilbo read slowly.

"Aye," A red-haired dwarf bellowed, leaning forward to better see the others around him. "Oin has read the portents, and the portents say, it is time!"

Another dwarf, the one I assumed to be Oin, continued. "Ravens have been seen flying back to the mountain as it was foretold: 'When the birds of old return to Erebor, the reign of the beast will end'."

Bilbo, upon hearing the word 'beast', looked incredibly concerned. I had the feeling that whatever thought poor Bilbo had previously had about joining the company had just vanished. "What beast?" he asked, looking frightened.

One of the younger dwarves answered him. "Well that would be a reference to Smaug the Terrible, chiefest and greatest calamity of our age." I lifted my eyebrows at him in warning, but he did not so much as glance in my direction. "Airborne fire-breather, teeth like razors, claws like meathooks, extremely fond of precious metals."

"Yes, I know what a dragon is," Bilbo said, sounding both annoyed and frightened.

One of the youngest dwarves stood. "I'm not afraid! I'm up for it. I'll give him a taste of the Dwarvish iron right up his jacksy!"

The dwarf beside him grabbed him and pulled him back into his chair while the others laughed. "Sit down!" I wondered if they were brothers; the grey-haired one certainly fussed over the younger enough for them to be related. The elder caught me staring and glared at me; I quickly turned my gaze away, my cheeks burning.

Balin continued as if nothing had happened, his voice earnest. "The task will be difficult enough with an army behind us. But we number just thirteen. Not thirteen of the best, nor brightest." He muttered this last bit under his breath, but somehow every dwarf heard it and became offended, shouting at the old dwarf.

"Who are you calling dim?" One yelled.

"Watch it!"

"No!"

"We may be few in number," the golden-haired dwarf said boldly, his strong voice capturing the attention of everyone in the room, "but we're fighters, all of us, to the last dwarf!"

His brother butted in, grinning. His voice was slightly higher than his brother's; he clearly was the younger of the two. His was more carefree than the other's, he sounded more joyous. His voice was almost elflike in this way—many of us spoke as if we are about to burst into laughter. "And you forget, we have a wizard in our company. Gandalf will have killed hundreds of dragons in his time."

I raised my eyebrows and looked over at the wizard, who held up his hands in polite protest, shaking his head. "Oh, well, now, I wouldn't say—"

"How many, then?" I covered my mouth with my hand to cover my smile and saw Thorin turn to the wizard, smirking.

Gandalf started, looking cornered. "I, uh, what?"

"How many dragons have you killed?" The same dwarf asked curiously. Gandalf began choking on his smoke. I laughed aloud, at which point the dwarf shouted, "Go on, give us a number!"

Gandalf embarrassedly coughed on his pipe smoke; the dwarves jumped to their feet, arguing about the number of dragons Gandalf had killed. Thorin jumped to his feet, eyes blazing. "Atkât!" he bellowed. Every dwarf dropped into his chair, silent, eyes glued to the kingly figure standing before them.

"If we have read these signs, do you not think that others will have read them too? Rumors have begun to spread. The dragon Smaug has not been seen for sixty years. Eyes look east to the Mountain, assessing, wondering, weighing the risk. Perhaps the vast wealth of our people now lies unprotected. Do we sit back while others claim what is rightfully ours? Or do we seize this chance to take back Erebor? Du Bekâr! Du Bekâr!" He shouted, rallying the dwarves. All the dwarves cheered, and I waited for someone to point out to the prince the glaringly obvious problem he faced.

Balin was the one to do it, and the cheers died out when he did. "You forget: the front door is sealed. There is no way into the mountain," he said regretfully.

Mithrandir smirked and leaned forward. "That, my dear Balin, is not entirely true." Twiddling his fingers, Gandalf produced a dwarvish key seemingly from nowhere, ornately wrought. Thorin gazed at it in awe.

Thorin stared at it as if afraid it would vanish into smoke. When he spoke, his voice was hushed. He sounded stunned; I doubted he could have sounded more surprised if the wizard had announced that the dragon had just dropped dead. "How came you by this?"

"It was given to me by your father, by Thrain, for safekeeping. It is yours now." Gandalf handed the key to Thorin as everyone else looked on in wonder.

"If there is a key, there must be a door," the blond dwarf said, thinking aloud. His brother hid a smile behind a quiet cough. I grinned, turning back to the wizard. He was pointing to a spot on the map with the stem of his pipe.

"These runes speak of a hidden passage to the lower halls," Gandalf said. "There's another way in," the dark haired dwarf said, smiling gleefully. His joy was contagious; I smiled brightly as the mood of the dwarves lifted considerably. I could practically see hope glimmering in their eyes.

"If we can find it," Gandalf replied, his voice lighter than before. "Dwarf doors are invisible when closed. The answer lies hidden somewhere in this map and I do not have the skill to find it. But there are others in Middle Earth who can. The task I have in mind will require a great deal of stealth, and no small amount of courage. But, if we are careful and clever, I believe that it can be done."

"That's why we need a burglar," one of the younger dwarves said, putting the pieces together. I recognized him as the one who had leapt to his feet earlier, claiming to take on the dragon single handedly.

Now if only someone would ask why Gandalf needs an elf. I sighed irritably. I would be glad to know that information.

"And a good one, too. An expert, I'd imagine," Bilbo said absently, studying the map. He had hooked his thumbs in the straps of his suspenders.

"And are you?" The red-haired dwarf asked testily.

Bilbo looked up from the map, unaware that he was being spoken to. It was evident to me that he had not realized his purpose. "Am I what?"

The dwarf with the ear trumpet exclaimed, "He said he's an expert! Hey hey!" The other dwarves cheered.

Bilbo looked around, somewhat horrified. "Me? No, no, no. I'm not a burglar; I've never stolen a thing in my life," Bilbo protested.

"I'm afraid I have to agree with Mr. Baggins. He's hardly burglar material," Balin replied. Bilbo nodded in agreement.

The tattooed dwarf to my left continued. "Aye, the wild is no place for gentlefolk who can neither fight nor fend for themselves." Bilbo continued nodding in agreement and the dwarves began arguing amongst themselves. I sat back, rubbing my forehead. One thing I missed about travelling with the Dúnedain was how little arguing there was, if any. Everyone knew their place; there was no room for petty bickering. Clearly this was not the case here.

Gandalf stood suddenly, darkness spreading over the room. Candles dimmed, and every spark of light seemed to vanish. The temperature grew considerably colder until the sitting room began reminding me irrevocably of a tomb. I shrank back, shocked at the power emanating from him. The others froze in awe, sitting back in their chairs. "Enough!" He said angrily, his voice echoing around now silent room. "If I say Bilbo Baggins is a burglar, then a burglar he is." By the time he finished speaking, his voice had returned to normal and the light and warmth had returned to the room. He continued speaking as though nothing had happened, and I wondered it he had noticed what had happened. "Hobbits are remarkably light on their feet. In fact, they can pass unseen by most if they choose. And while the dragon is accustomed to the smell of dwarf, the scent of hobbit is all but unknown to him, which gives us a distinct advantage." Bilbo shook his head quickly, afraid to speak but also terrified of what Gandalf was saying. "You asked me to find the fourteenth member of this company, and I have chosen Mr. Baggins. There's a lot more to him than appearances suggest, and he's got a great deal more to offer than any of you know, including himself. You must trust me on this."

"And what of the elf?" Thorin asked, nodding at me with his head. I looked to Gandalf, eager to hear his answer.

"Princess Aeyera—"

"I am not a princess," I murmured.

Gandalf continued on, shooting me a glare but otherwise acting as though I had not spoken. "—Besides being a skilled huntress and archer, has travelled with the Dúnedain these past few decades. For those of you who do not know of them, they are some of the most skilled healers and hunters in Middle Earth, descended from the kings of old. How long exactly have you been with them, princess?" He asked.

I clenched my teeth angrily but ignored the title as best I could, thinking. "I met with Arathorn a decade after…" I froze, but quickly continued when no one noticed my slip up. I cleared my throat. "So… about hundred and fifty years, give or take a few decades."

Gandalf frowned but said nothing about the twenty-year gap I had neglected to mention. I rolled my aching shoulders, wincing as the scars marring my skin stretched uncomfortably. The rangers were the ones who healed me; the ones who found me and kept me alive after I foolishly tried to track down a spider that had attacked my campsite on my way from Erebor. The spider led me to Dol Guldur, where—where unspeakable things happened to me. I shuddered and looked down, fighting the shadows of madness lurking on the edge of my mind.

"Yes," Gandalf said, his tone making it clear to me that he would be cornering me for answers later. "Because of this, she has great knowledge of healing, particularly with the Athelas plant."

"Athelas?" Oin repeated. "It's a weed."

"Not in the hands of the rangers," I replied quietly, meeting his gaze across the table. "Or in mine."

Thorin glowered at the table before answering the wizard. "Very well. We'll do it your way. Give them both a contract," Thorin said.

"Alright, we're off!" One of the dwarves exclaimed. Bilbo began objecting to Thorin and Gandalf, but they ignored him.

Thorin handed Bilbo a long contract, shoving it at him. Bilbo took, shocked, as Balin explained the contents. "It's just the usual summary of out-of-pocket expenses, time required, remuneration, funeral arrangements, so forth."

"Funeral arrangements?" As Bilbo stepped back a few feet to read the contract, Thorin leaned toward Gandalf and whispered to him, clearly not intending for anyone else to hear. My sharp ears caught his words, however, and I froze at his words.

"I cannot guarantee his safety," Thorin said.

"Understood."

"Nor will I be responsible for his fate."

Gandalf looked startled, but said, "Agreed."

Bilbo began reading parts of the contract out loud, and I listened in, declining my own copy. "I do not wish for a reward in treasure, master Balin," I said, catching the old dwarf by surprise.

"Then what do you want, lass?" He asked. I looked up into the eyes of Thorin, who watched me intently. I held his gaze as I thought about what it was I really wanted. When I found it, I replied softly so few others might hear.

"To make things right," I answered gently. He looked away.

"'Cash on delivery, up to but not exceeding one fourteenth of total profit, if any'. Hmm. Seems fair," The hobbit commented, pacing around and unfolding hidden compartments in his letter. "'The present company shall not be liable for injuries inflicted by or sustained as a consequence thereof including but not limited to lacerations... Evisceration…? Incineration?!" Bilbo looked back over at the dwarves in disbelief, perhaps hoping that they were joking.

"Oh, aye, he'll melt the flesh off yer bones in the blink of an eye," one of the dwarves helpfully replied. I closed my eyes in exasperation.

"Huh," Bilbo said.

"You alright there laddie?" Balin asked kindly.

Bilbo was by now bent over with his hands on his knees. "I feel a bit faint."

The same dwarf that had spoken before stood, leaning against the doorframe and watching the hobbit carefully. "Think furnace with wings."

Bilbo let out quick puffs of air, terrified. "Air, I-I-I-I need air."

"Flash of light, searing pain, then 'Poof!' You're nothing more than a pile of ash!" The dwarf continued. I resisted the urge to smack the clueless dwarf upside the head and instead watched the hobbit to make sure he didn't keel over. Bilbo breathed heavily, trying to compose himself as the others stared at him.

He straightened up for a moment, looking better. "Nope." Bilbo collapsed neatly on the floor in a faint.

"You're very helpful, Bofur," Gandalf gruffly said to the dwarf, standing and making his way over to the hobbit. The dwarf—Bofur—and I carried the hobbit into his sitting room, placing him gently in one of the armchairs closest to the fire.

"I'll make him some tea," one of the grey haired dwarves announced, hurrying to the kitchen. The rest of the group dispersed, heading to different corners of the hobbit hold to rest. I sat in the shadows of the room with the hobbit, waiting for him to awaken.

Gandalf came and stood beside me, saying nothing.

"Master Gandalf, I brought him some chamomile tea," the dwarf announced, entering the room with a tray balanced on his hands.

"Ah, thank you, Dori," Mithrandir said, banding down and accepting the platter. Dori make brief eye contact with me but broke it almost immediately.

He looked at the ground, scowling. "Of course, master Gandalf," he said, leaving. He began speaking to one of the others in the hall. "Why is the elf here, anyway? It's not as if she can actually help us at all…"

I turned away, sighing. Bilbo groaned and lifted his chin off his chest, looking around.

"Ah, master Baggins," I said pleasantly, coming around to stand before him. I handed him a mug of tea, which he took gratefully. "I am glad you are finally awake. How are you?"

"I'll be alright," Bilbo said, looking down. "Just let me sit quietly for a moment."

Gandalf replied, coming and standing in front of the hobbit. It was clear that he was tired of asking nicely for these people to do as he said. "You've been sitting quietly for far too long! Tell me; when did doilies and your mother's dishes become so important to you? I remember a young Hobbit who always was running off in search of elves in the woods… who would stay out late and come home after dark, trailing mud and twigs and fireflies. A young Hobbit who would have liked nothing better than to find out what was beyond the borders of the Shire. The world is not in your books and maps; it's out there." He pointed to the window, where the Shire lay cloaked in shadow under the starlight.

"I can't just go running off into the blue. I am a Baggins, of Bag End," Bilbo said, trying his best to convince the wizard.

"You are also a Took!" The wizard exclaimed, waving his arms to explain the importance of what he was saying. He pointed at a portrait that hung in the corner half hidden by shadow. "Did you know that your great-great-great-great-uncle, Bullroarer Took, was so large he could ride a real horse?" I glanced over at a portrait of Bullroarer Took on Bilbo's wall; the hobbit held a large club over his shoulder.

Bilbo sighed irritably. "Yes—"

"Well he could!" The wizard said loudly, speaking over Bilbo. "In the Battle of Green Fields, he charged the goblin ranks. He swung his club so hard it knocked the Goblin King's head clean off, and it sailed a hundred yards through the air and went down a rabbit hole. And thus the battle was won, and the game of golf invented at the same time." I smirked, amused. I didn't quite believe him; wizards tended to exaggerate, but it was an amusing tale all the same.

Bilbo frowned bemusedly. "I do believe you made that up."

Gandalf smiled softly and strode back to Bilbo. "Well, all good stories deserve embellishment. You'll have a tale or two to tell of your own when you come back."

Bilbo smiled slightly, the prospect of an adventure warming up to him. The smile dropped from his face, and his voice took on a pleading note. "Can you promise that I will come back?"

The wizard looked over at the Halfling, the smile slipping from his own face as well. "No. And if you do, you will not be the same."

Master Baggins sighed and rose to his feet. "That's what I thought. Sorry, Gandalf, I can't sign this. You've got the wrong Hobbit." Bilbo stood and walked away down the hall, leaving Gandalf and I alone. The wizard sighed, weary, and turned to me.

"What happened to you in the years before you encountered the rangers?" he asked, sitting in one of the hobbit's larger chairs. I took a seat in the one Bilbo had recently occupied, crossing my arms. I had known these questions would come; I just had hoped they wouldn't.

"I do not wish to speak of it, Mithrandir," I whispered, gazing into the fire. The voices of madness rose, the clamor becoming more pronounced. I shook my head slightly, trying to get rid of them. The fire snapped, crackling loudly.

"You tried to go back to Erebor," he guessed, gazing intently at me. I shrugged, squeezing my eyes shut. "Something stopped you."

"I made it to the mountain," I whispered hoarsely. "But my brother stopped me. Afterwards I headed south, until… until a giant spider attacked my camp. I followed it, Gandalf. I was a fool… It led me to Dol Guldur. It was not empty," I said, my voice catching. I turned so that my back faced the wizard and pulled my tunic up so that the scarred skin on my back was visible. I heard him suck in a breath, horrified, but he said nothing. The silence was so thick that I could have cut it with a knife. I turned, pulling my top down to cover the scars that twisted across my skin.

The worst of all was the mottled, angry scar on my side and back, showing where a Morgul blade had run me through. I had struggled against its magic for decades, and this year was no exception. It usually was worst on the anniversary of the day it had pierced me, which was several months from now. The old wizard sat, frozen, staring at me with horror and pity.

"This is what happened in the twenty years I was gone," I said, my voice broken. "This is how the rangers found me; why they helped me..."

Gandalf did not answer, and we sat in silence together. He asked no more questions.

I stood eventually and moved to the edge of the room, where the rest of the dwarves were gathered, smoking their pipes by the fire. They all began humming, and soon Thorin began to sing, the others joining him as the song swelled in intensity.

"Far over the Misty Mountains cold,

To dungeons deep and caverns old.

We must away ere break of day

To find our long-forgotten gold.

The pines were roaring on the height;

The winds were moaning in the night.

The fire was red, it flaming spread;

The trees like torches blazed with light."

I stared at the fire, which crackled ominously. Feeling someone's gaze upon me, I lifted my eyes to meet the gaze of the dwarf prince whose eyes burned like dragon fire back at me.


	9. Chapter 9

**Edited on January 28, 2015**

**As I said before, I am editing this book. This chapter was around 3,000 words, it is now 8,900 words, so there are a lot of changes going on. They won't come all at once, but I hope you'll come back once I'm done, because I'm excited about these changes! Let me know what you think!**

After the dwarves' song, I went outside. The air had cooled considerably, but it still was comfortable enough for one to stand outside without need of a cloak. I looked out over the Shire, crossing my arms as a warm breeze tossed my curls playfully before going on its way. Crickets and cicadas sang from their perches on the ground and in the trees, and owls would call out on occasion to one another. The lights of other hobbit holes still burned bright on my right and left, but no one had built their homes ahead of me. A lake stood there; beyond that, an enormous tree. A forest stood behind the hill the tree resided on, and through it was dark, the canopy shone bright with the light of the stars. The lake before it shone like burnished silver in the moonlight. The scent of flowers and newly tilled earth permeated the air, and I found myself wishing that I could stay here, at least for a little while.

I twisted my ring absently and sighed, banishing the thought. I belonged here no more than I belonged in the Greenwood. I sank down and sat on a bench perched beside the road, inside of Bilbo's fence. It had been too long; too long since I had walked beneath the eaves of my old home. Too long since I had seen my brother. I buried my face in my hands and took a deep, shuddering breath.

I found myself wishing that I could sleep. It is not unheard of for elves to do so; it is simply unusual, since we are able to go without it. I, however, cannot. On the rare occasion that I do sleep, I am plagued by horrible nightmares until I either am awakened by a frightened passerby or eventually wake naturally.

The dwarves in the home behind me were preparing for bed; I could hear several calling goodnight to the others. Some were returning chairs and plates to their rightful places. They all seemed so happy: they were about to go home.

I lifted my head up to look at the stars, reveling in their light. A bright smile appeared on my lips as I caught sight of a constellation hanging over the lake. It was so achingly familiar that I nearly cried out in joy at seeing it again. Darkness was growing in the east, and the stars often were veiled. "_Ali sanar,__Desh'mieve__. Er ari i barith taur kanuva mi an ly._"

_I miss your light, Mother. One day the seas of chance might lead me to you._

"What are you saying?" I turned around, started, and saw the blonde dwarf standing several steps up, watching me curiously. I was impressed; there were very few in Middle Earth who could sneak up on me.

I turned back to face the stars but gestured him to come forward. He moved down the stairs until he reached the bench, and he sat down next to me. I was once again surprised by how short I was; he and I stood at exactly the same height. I could feel the tension he felt at being so near to me, so I spoke first.

"My mother passed away many years ago," I said softly, keeping my eyes on the stars above me. "Do you see that constellation there?" I asked, pointing. The tip of my finger hovered over the crown of the collection of stars.

He looked where I was pointing and nodded. "Yes, I see it."

I rested my hands in my lap. "I named it after my mother many years ago," I said quietly. "It has been my source of comfort for a long time. It has been hidden from my sight as of late, but tonight it has revealed itself to me once again."

"You say that she passed many years ago," he said cautiously, tearing his eyes off the stars to gaze at me instead. "But you look even younger than I."

"I age differently than you do," I replied, smiling a bit.

The dwarf pressed on. "Yes, but I am of age, and yet you still look younger than I. You must be a very young elf to look this way," he said, scrutinizing me.

Rather than anger, I felt sadness at his observation. I replied slowly, thinking. "I watched Erebor fall," I said, my voice sad and quiet. "I have travelled Middle Earth alone for over one hundred years. I am not so young as you might think."

He sounded shocked. "You watched…?"

I turned to him, finally, and looked him in the eye. His eyes were blue, which surprised me. Most dwarves other than Thorin that I had seen had brown eyes. His eyes glimmered in the starlight. As I spoke, my voice echoed my desperation as it rose to a higher pitch. "I watched as innumerable dwarves were slaughtered by a beast that clawed the mountain apart. I tried to help the dwarves of Erebor and was repaid by exile. I have experienced much, dwarf, in my life. Do not—" I would have gone on for the rest of the night, but a Bofur appeared in the doorway and looked between us, looking confused.

"Fili… it's time to come in," the dwarf said, eyeing me nervously as if I were about to rear back and shoot him.

"Alright, Bofur," the blonde dwarf said.

Bofur went back inside, and the dwarf turned to leave. I faced the stars again but froze when his voice carried over to me. "My name's Fili," he said, a smile in his voice, "Just in case you wished to speak to me again."

I turned and faced him, smiling. "Aeyera," I said, feeling happier than I had in a long time. Someone had accepted me. "I'm Aeyera."

"I know," he said, a cheeky smile on his face. "Goodnight, Princess."

He headed inside, but I stayed outdoors. I preferred living in nature anyway; besides, I doubted that the rest of the dwarves would give me as warm a welcome as Fili had. He seemed so familiar… I couldn't place my finger on it, but I could have sworn that I knew him from somewhere.

_"Celebhiril."_

I started and stared up at the wizard, confused. I replied in elvish; it had been a very long time since I had spoken in the language of my people, and I did not wish to stop so suddenly. _"What did you call me?"_

_"Celebhiril,"_ he said conversationally, seating himself beside me. He continued in my language without hesitation, and I was grateful for it. _"Silver Lady. Or Tindómiel: Daughter of Twilight. I think that both describe you rather well. But then, you already know this, do you not?"_

I shifted on the bench, crossing my right leg over my left. I answered carefully, unsure of where the wizard was taking our conversation. _"Aye. Arathorn and Arador called me Tindómiel, for I did not share my true name even with the rangers."_

_"Why ever not?"_ Mithrandir questioned, turning to took at me. His bushy eyebrows shone like beacons in the moonlight, his eyes twinkling like stars.

_"I did not wish for my lineage to be revealed,"_ I told him, closing my eyes and running my fingers through my hair. _"For a long time my ancestry was a thing of shame for me."_

_ "How do you mean?" _he asked, his bushy eyebrows furrowing together.

I wondered how it was he did not already know. Surely he knew where I had been for the last century, if not before. _'No,'_ I decided, sighing. _'If he had known, he would have saved me.' _

_ "How could it not?" _I retorted_. "My father," _I spat out the word. _"Betrayed his allies to dragonfire and ruin. He turned and ran and refused to fight. Mithrandir—" _my voice turned desperate. _"Understand why I left. Please. Understand why I did not want the rangers to know me as the Princess of the Greenwood."_

_ "I understand, Aeyera," _the wizard said kindly. _"But you should know that running away never helps. Sooner or later your past will catch up with you, my dear, and you will not be able to escape it." _I suppressed a shudder as he stood up. _"I will not tell you what you should do, my lady, but I will offer you this piece of wisdom." _He shifted, leaning heavily on his twisted staff. _"Do not hold on to old prejudices like many in this world do. Your father is one who does this, as is Thorin Oakenshield. I once believed that his generation could move past it, but I was wrong. Now I believe that this is the generation to change everything. You have already met Fili; become acquainted with his brother, see what happens." _When he stopped speaking, I stood and bowed.

_"Good night, Mithrandir."_

As I turned and walked up towards the tree perched on top of the hobbit hole, I heard the wizard say to himself,"Who know? Perhaps you three will change the course of the future."

-O-

I did not sleep the whole night, but rather dreamed and stared up at the stars. When the rest of the company woke up, I went with them into town, where they bought over a dozen ponies and a large quantity of supplies. To my delight, they bought it all from Lilliana's family. She ran out to meet me and wrapped her arms around my waist, smiling up at me.

"Oh, Aeyera, I'm so glad you've come back!" The way she spoke, it might have been decades since our last meeting rather than hours. I caught a glimpse of Fili's brother smirking in my direction, and I frowned, my eyebrows drawing together. Lilliana followed my gaze and blushed, beaming. "He's very handsome, isn't he," she said solemnly, partially hidden behind my legs.

I turned my head, glad to have an excuse to look at him and see why he was staring at me. "I suppose so," I said noncommittally.

The young hobbit moved out from behind me and slowly made her way over to the dark haired dwarf. I noted with interest that he was an archer; an unusual skill for a dwarf. "Hello," she said, looking up at him with her big golden-brown eyes.

He looked down, surprised, but smiled at her all the same. I caught his confused glance when he looked up at me, but I pretended to be fussing of Gwairoch's saddle and ignored him. "Hello there," I heard him say. "What's your name, princess?"

I could hear her smile in her voice. "Lilliana," came her shy reply.

"What a lovely name," he said. I laughed softly. Perhaps not all dwarves were like Thorin. _'If more were like Fili and his brother,'_ I found myself thinking, _'perhaps our races would get along.'_ Someone cleared their throat from behind me. I turned without thinking and found myself nearly nose to nose with the dwarf. We both backed up, blushing slightly. "Is she a friend of yours?" he asked. Lilliana smiled up at the two of us, and I couldn't help but wonder if she had pushed him into me.

"Yes," I replied kindly, placing my hand on her shoulder. "She was a great help to me yesterday, and an excellent host."

"She is very sweet," he said. I could sense a smirk in his voice, and I raised my eyebrows in warning. "She says that I am very handsome. I heard that you agree?"

I rolled my eyes and turned around, hiding my blush behind my hair. Truly this dwarf was different. Infuriating, yes, but different all the same. "Goodbye, Aeyera!" Lilliana called, waving as she ran back to her inn.

I raised my hand in farewell, my heart aching when I realized that I might never see her again. "Goodbye."

"Elf!" I turned and found myself looking up into the face of Thorin Oakenshield, who already was astride a pony. He glared down at me, blue ice as cold as ice. "If you are done, we are ready to depart."

Not breaking eye contact, I swung gracefully onto Gwairoch's saddle. I looked down at the dwarf prince innocently, a smirk tugging at my lips. "Lead on, Thorin," I answered, bowing my head.

He swung his pony around irritably and began leading the company out of the Shire. Many hobbits stopped and stared as we rode past, pointing and whispering to one another. I did not doubt that rumors would soon be circulating around the Shire about the band of dwarves that had stayed there, and I prayed that the Dúnedain would have the wisdom to curb them before they reached unfriendly ears.

Nearly a dozen halfling children followed us to the edge of the woods, giggling and hiding behind trees, before giving up and running back to their homes. Not a one of the dwarves had spoken to me since Fili's brother had teased me about Lilliana, and I had to admit, I did not appreciate the tense silence surrounding me. I had a feeling that had I not been present, the trees would have echoed with their roaring laughter, their excitement contagious. As it was, barely any whispers cut through the silence. Any dwarf that did speak was quickly silenced by the others, who gave me nasty looks as they did so.

After nearly half an hour of plodding through the woods, I had had enough. Spurring Gwairoch on, I cantered to the head of the procession to ride beside the wizard, doing my best to ignore the glares aimed my way.

"Gandalf?" I asked him, not bothering to lower my voice. At the sound, several dwarves began muttering, and I caught the sound of what sounded like a bet as I waited for the wizard to reply.

"He will come!" The wizard called back, tossing a small sack of coins over his shoulder. A grey-bearded dwarf caught it, looking dubious.

I glanced back at the dwarves, now busy with their bets, and began braiding a strand of hair, separating it into three strands and weaving it together carefully. "You really believe that the halfling will come?"

Gandalf looked down at me, brow hidden by the shadow of his blue hat. "I do. Although personally, I am rather surprised that you decided to come along." I nodded in agreement. "And pleased, of course." He paused for a moment, frowning down at me. "Why did you come, Celebhiril?"

"Wait! Wait!"

I started at the name and was incredibly grateful for the hobbit, for I was saved from the wizard's questioning by the sound of Bilbo Baggins' shouts. Several dwarves groaned, having lost their bets that master Baggins would not join them on their journey. _Our_ journey.

Despite their irritation at having lost their savings to the wizard, they all began to halt their ponies, calling "Woah!" and petting their necks to calm them down. I suppose they might have ridden on and ignored him and so won their bets, but they decided against it. Gwairoch, startled by the hobbit's shouts, reared back onto his hind legs, neighing loudly. The dwarves looked at me, annoyed, as the horse slammed his fore-hooves into the turf, skittish of this small creature's cries. I turned in the saddle in time to see the hobbit sprinting ungainly up the path to the procession, contract trailing behind him. I smiled at him as he caught up to us and handed the papers to Balin.

He gasped, bending over, as Balin inspected it closely. "I signed it!" Bilbo announced proudly, panting. The old dwarf continued looking it over as fearing it might be a forgery, although what the hobbit might gain from it, I had no idea. Perhaps hobbits were more nefarious than they were given credit for. Or perhaps dwarves were even more paranoid than they seemed.

Feeling someone's eyes on me, I glanced around, hand drifting to my knife. I relaxed, however, when I saw that it was Fili who was watching me. He seemed amused at my paranoia and smirked, winking at me. I grinned back, glad that at least one of the dwarves didn't seem to hate me. Fili's brother noticed where he was looking and followed his gaze. When his brown eyes locked on mine, I held them for a moment. He and his brother both seemed familiar, but I couldn't put a finger on where I had seen them before. I was positive that we had never met, and yet something about them made me think that I had known them both before now.

We broke our eye contact as Balin began speaking. "Everything appears to be in order," he said, handing him back the contract. "Welcome, Master Baggins, to the company of Thorin Oakenshield." The old dwarf winked at Bilbo, who grinned in relief. The dwarves cheered, but Thorin didn't look impressed. He glowered at the hobbit, annoyed at the interruption.

"Give him a pony," Thorin called, neither angry nor pleased.

Bilbo's eyes widened in alarm, and he quickly began walking at a slight curve as if hoping to avoid the ponies altogether. He sped up as the ponies began moving again, shying away from one of them as it snorted, tossing its head. "No, no, no, that won't be necessary," he looked ahead at Thorin, who looked thoroughly uninterested. "I'm sure I can keep up on foot. I-I-I've done my fair share of walking holidays, you know. I even got as far as Frogmorton once—WAGH!" Bilbo's speech was cut off as Fili and his brother rode alongside him and picked him up from behind, easily setting him on a pony.

As we began riding up over a hill, I pulled back to ride beside the hobbit. As I neared him, I brought my hand up to cover my mouth, stifling the laughter erupting from me and turning it into a coughing fit instead.

The poor halfling looked utterly terrified of the pony beneath him and held its reins close to his chest. In response, the pony neighed and tossed its head, which only prompted the hobbit to clutch the reins tighter, ignoring how the beast rolled its eyes back at him and flattened its ears against its head.

"Master Baggins," I spoke softly, not wishing to startle him. He jumped, jerking on the horse's reins in surprise. I winced as it snorted, glaring at him irritably as if daring him to annoy it again. "Relax your hold on the reigns. I assure you that she will not bolt." Looking doubtful, he slowly lowered his arms and relaxed the reigns. The horse, noting the change, nickered and lifted her ears, bringing her eyes back to face the front.

He sighed in relief, looked up at me. "Thank you," he said. I noticed that he still held the reigns at arm's reach.

The dwarves began calling out to one another, tossing small sacks through the air to one another, all laughing. "Come on, Nori, pay up." I ducked as the dwarf in question tossed a sack of money to another behind me, not seeming to care whether he hit me or not.

"What's that about?" Bilbo asked me, momentarily forgetting about his riding situation. The wizard fell back to ride on the other side of the hobbit, chuckling under his breath.

"Oh, they took wagers on whether or not you'd turn up," I told him, smiling at him to show him that I meant no harm. He frowned, glancing at the dwarves ahead of and behind us, wondering who had voted against him.

"Most of them bet that you wouldn't," the wizard added, keeping his face facing the trail. His eyes sparkled with laughter, and I grinned, turning away from the hobbit for a moment.

Bilbo spoke again, sounding hesitant. "And what did you think…?"

I looked back up in time to see Gandalf catch a sack of money and throw it into the air, testing its weight. Chuckling, he put it in his bag. I laughed along, my heart lighter than it had been in years.

"My dear fellow, I never doubted you for a second."

Bilbo suddenly sneezed loudly, jerking his pony's reins once again. He sniffed and began searching his pockets for a handkerchief, muttering about horsehair and allergies. He looked up in shock, eyes wide, and I frowned in alarm, looking around. He sat up straight, raising his hand in the air. His other hand still fumbled through his pockets. "No, wait, wait, stop! Stop! We have to turn around." The entire company came to a halt. The dwarves began objecting and asking what the problem was, many of them eying me distrustfully as if I had been the one who had called for a break.

The wizard, who apparently had not been paying attention to the hobbit's frantic search, looked down at him irritably. "What on earth is the matter?" The wizard asked gruffly.

"I forgot my handkerchief," Bilbo complained quickly, still searching his pockets. The dwarf I remembered was called Bofur pulled a strip of cloth from the edge of his shirt and tossed it to Bilbo.

"Here! Use this." Bilbo caught the rag and looked between it and its owner in shock. The dwarves laughed and began to continue their journey.

"Move out!" Thorin called, a hint of amusement on his face as he turned to face the front again.

Gandalf huffed and urged his horse forward again. "You'll have to manage without pocket-handkerchiefs and a good many other things, Bilbo Baggins, before we reach our journey's end. You were born to the rolling hills and little rivers of the Shire, but home is now behind you; the world is ahead."

I hummed softly in agreement, bringing my hair over one shoulder and braiding it together, weaving the small braids into the larger one. Catching sight of the hobbit's crestfallen look, I urged Gwairoch over to trot beside the hobbit, trying off the braid with a strip of leather and allowing it to fall down the center of my back.

"Here," I said softly, pulling a much cleaner square of cloth from my pocket. I had carried it with me from Imladris (why, I did not know) and decided that now was as good a time as any to use it. I unfolded it and handed it to the startled hobbit, who took it hesitantly, brown eyes wide. "Use this."

"Oh, I-I—thank you," he stammered, baffled. He gripped it tightly as if it were made of diamonds, afraid to let it go. "I-I am afraid I didn't catch your name last night."

I laughed softly. "I am Aeyera," I told him, smiling.

"And—and are you really a-a princess?" he asked, looking up at me. My smile faded and I looked thoughtfully at the hobbit.

"I was, once," I replied, turning my head and fixing my eyes on the road before me. "But not anymore."

"Oh," he said, sounding ashamed. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have intruded on a personal matter. Forgive me."

I glanced back at him, fondness for him growing. "You are not at fault, Mater Baggins. It is not your fault what happened in my past, and there was no way you could have known about it anyway. You are not forgiven, for there is nothing to forgive."

He looked startled, and I noticed that a couple of the dwarves were watching us out of the corners of their eyes. "What can you tell me about yourself?" he asked, clearly curious.

I smiled and laughed, tossing my head back. "Am I the first elf you have happened across, Master Baggins?"

He blushed, embarrassed. "Yes, b-but—please, call me Bilbo."

"Alright, Bilbo," I said, settling down in the saddle and preparing for many questions. "What would you like to know?"

The afternoon passed quickly, and before I knew it we were unloading the horses atop a cliff, which looked out over the land. It was easy to see the Shire from where we stood, and I wondered how the hobbit would be tonight away from his home. I stayed as far away from the edge as was possible; I never had been good with heights. Tree jumping was different; as long as you stayed in the branches, you would be fine. But fall of a cliff… there's no way to survive unless you had wings.

Two of the older dwarves began to work on lighting a fire while several others began clearing away stray sticks and pinecones in a large circle. When several of them began unsheathing their weapons, I grinned. Oftentimes amongst the rangers we would spar at night before dinner, and I was more skilled with twin knives than all the others and nearly as skills with a sword as Arathorn, their chieftain, was.

Fili looked over at me, unsheathing his twin swords. "Princess," he called. Several dwarves looked around and leveled their gazes at me. "Would you spar with me? My brother seems too lazy to do so tonight." He winked at me, and I forgave his calling me 'Princess,' if only because I knew he meant no harm. I took off my quiver and bow as well as my sword and leaned them against a tree, letting one of the dwarves lead Gwairoch away.

I moved until I stood within the circle, hands at my sides. A knife was held loosely in each one, and I watched the dwarf carefully, waiting for him to make the first move. Several of his companions shouted warnings to him, cautioning him to be wary of me. Many of them commanded him not to fight me, saying that I could not be trusted. I focused on him, feeling the dirt shift beneath my feet. Small pebbles dotted the ground, but there were no rocks large enough to roll an ankle on remaining in the circle; the dwarves had made sure of that.

I lowered into a crouch, keeping my eyes on my opponent and waiting for him to move. He suddenly took a step forward, and I shifted my weight onto my right foot to spring forward, but heard the unmistakable sound of a sword whistling through the air behind me.

Knowing I could not block it, I threw myself forward at the last minute, tucking my knees to my chest and rolling out of range. I sprang to my feet several yards away and whirled around, eyes flashing. Thorin stood, breathing heavily, his sword buried in the earth where I had just stood. His blue eyes were like chips of ice, and I knew that could looks kill, I would be dead. I gripped my knives tightly, eyes narrowing. Fili, beside whom I now stood, looked shocked. His brother looked between his king and I nervously, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

"Just what do you think you're doing?" Thorin asked, voice harsh. I immediately was on the defensive, and I gripped my knives tighter. Vaguely I wondered where our wizard was, but I was quickly distracted. "Do you really think I trust you enough to let you fight one of our youngest company members? How do we know you won't try and kill him and make it look like an accident?"

"If I wanted you to die," I growled, sheathing my knives angrily. "I would not have risked my life to defend you from a dragon. I most certainly would not have joined this quest to go back to reclaim _your _homeland and face the dragon again. If I wanted you _dead_," I turned and strode out of the ring to fetch my weapons, strapping them on again as I spat out the words. "I would have killed you last night while you slept."

His gaze had not wavered, but several dwarves had moved to stand behind their king, their weapons loosened in their sheathes. Fili and his brother were two of the ones who had remained where they were, both watching for my reaction.

"Why don't you fight her, if you're so wary of her fighting the others?" Gandalf had finally shown up and stood leaning on his staff, watching the dwarf prince disapprovingly. "You can test her strengths, see if she is as fine a fighter as she has claimed."

I glared at the wizard, but he ignored me, keeping his gaze fixed solely on Thorin. The dwarf frowned, lines appearing on his forehead, as he looked me up and down, weighing his options. I felt a wave of fear wash over me: he would have no mercy. He could just as easily overpower and end me as I could him. One thing he was right about was that I could possibly—_possibly_—have overpowered Fili. I was older by over a century. However, Thorin was older than I by a considerable amount. If you count years of actual weapons training as experience, I was behind by a good eighty years or so. I knew that he could not refuse and risk looking like a coward, so I lowered by bow and quiver to the ground, leaving my sword strapped to my hip.

He nodded finally, and the other dwarves stepped back from the circle. Balin had to pull Fili away. The tattooed dwarf was glaring at me as if warning me that should anything happen to Thorin, he would tear me apart. I swallowed and took a deep breath, relaxing into a defensive stance as soon as I entered the circle, crossing to stand a couple yards away. My knives had once again taken up residence in my hands, and I waited for him to make the first move. If we were to judge by strength alone, it would be an easy match. He outweighed me easily by a hundred pounds, and I knew that he had much more muscle than I. However, I was leaner and faster, which could work to my advantage. He drew his sword, and I felt a rush of apprehension. It truly was an even match now: large versus small, both in size of bodies and in weapons.

He struck first with such ferocity that I was forced to back up and block his stroke with both knives to avoid losing my right leg. Without pausing, he wrenched his blade away and swung at my unguarded left side. Once again I blocked, shocked at the hatred that seemed to fuel his motions. As the fight wore on, each of his strokes becoming sloppier and more dangerous than the last, I understood. He wasn't testing my strengths. He was trying to kill me. I was the only elf he had ever been able to fight: I was his enemy's daughter, however much I tried to deny the fact. As soon as I reached the conclusion, I leapt backwards, barely avoiding a slice that would have cut me in half, sheathed my knives, and drew my sword in one motion, blocking a strike meant for my neck.

Several dwarves murmured about how it was unfair to trade out weapons during a spar, but none interfered. Perhaps they, as I had, had figured out Thorin's true motive behind challenging me. Whatever the case, they stood by silently as I moved from the defensive to the offensive, pushing the prince back. My teeth were clenched in a snarl, eyes narrowed, as I pushed him back. Several times the flat of his blade struck me, and several times I managed to land a blow with the flat of my sword. The difference was that he wore armor and that he actually was trying to kill me, not test me. I hissed as the tip of his sword scratched my cheek, feeling blood trucked down into the stinging cut. The sweat around it made it burn. As we neared the edge of the circle, I brought my sword up to block an overhead stroke, and he struck out, kicking my legs out from under me. Might I point out what an underhanded blow that was; never would one do such a dishonorable thing unless their life truly was on the line.

As I fell, I threw up my sword and gripped the blade with my left hand, mindless of the steel slicing through my flesh. I heard one of the dwarves shout something, and then heard the unmistakable sound of metal striking metal followed by a sharp pain in my hand as my arms lurched back. I looked up and froze, my breath catching in my throat.

My sword had caught the edge of Thorin's and now held it at bay mere inches from my face. Fili and his brother strode to the center of the circle and stood between us, glaring at the prince. "That's enough," Fili growled.

Thorin looked the younger two up and down before stepping back and sheathing his sword and turning away. Most of the dwarves followed when he left, but Fili, Balin, Bilbo, Gandalf, and Fili's brother all stayed behind. Gandalf pulled me to my feet as I began breathing again.

_"He—he just tried to kill me," _I said to the wizard in my own tongue, leaning against him as one of the others took my sword from my right hand. I brought my left hand up to wipe my face but froze when I caught sight of the nasty cut that ran across my palm. Blood streamed down my fingertips onto the ground, and the healer came up to me, tugging me over to the fire.

"Don't know what he was thinking," the dwarf muttered. "It was just a spar! No need to press her like he did."

He sat me down on a log beside the now crackling fire and poured a bit of alcohol onto it. I yelled and jerked my hand back, but he pulled it towards him, tutting irritably. "None of that," he scolded, cleaning the blood from my skin before pouring some water over it as well and scrubbing it. I clenched my right hand so tightly that my fingernails bore into my skin, creating tiny crescent shaped grooves. When he pulled out a needle and thick thread, I nearly stood up and walked away. I tried, believe me, but Gandalf came and placed his hands on my shoulders, preventing me from escaping. I grabbed Fili's brother's hand as the needle began digging into my hand, sewing up the deep cut. As much as I hated to admit it, I needed stitches. I could see the white edge of bone at the base of my pointer finger and knew that it would become infected quickly if it weren't sewn up. However, that realization didn't stop the whimpers that escaped my mouth as I curled in on myself, trying to think about anything but the needle entering and exiting my skin.

Fili's brother remained silent throughout the surgery, although he shifted a few times as my grip tightened. When Ori finished, he took the rag and cleaned off the blood from around the string. Once clear, he wrapped it up and patted the back of my hand before standing and wiping the blood from my face with a piece of cloth, carefully avoiding touching my skin with his. "There," he said kindly as he finished, rinsing and wringing the rag out. "All better. Just don't use that hand for a few weeks and you'll be set."

I growled and leaned back against the trunk of a tree behind me, letting the warm breeze dry the sweat on my neck and face. I shivered, cradling my throbbing hand close to my chest. Fili and his brother came to sit beside me, the younger rubbing his somewhat bruised fingers. Thorin had not yet returned, but the largest dwarf was busy preparing supper over the fire and would glance up at me every few moments.

Fili opened his mouth to speak first, but I cut him off, glaring into the flames. "You'd best not speak to me," I warned, glancing up at him. "I'm out to get you, remember?" He shut his mouth. A few minutes later, I held up my bandaged hand, allowing the white cloth to catch the firelight. "Thank you," I said softly to the brothers, feeling guilty for snapping at them. They looked up again, eyes shining gold. "For interfering."

Fili's brother shrugged. "You were getting pretty beat up," he pointed out. I touched my cheek lightly and rolled my shoulder, wincing as the joint popped and ached.

"I know how hard it is to stand against your king," I said quietly. "Although I suppose that you are lucky not to be related to yours as I was mine. I thank you again, however, and ask for your forgiveness. I should not have yelled at you."

He shifted, brown eyes glinting. "You are forgiven, Princess. Although, anyone would have done it; they just were too surprised to move."

I chuckled softly, wincing as my shoulders creaked in protest. "I don't—"

Right then, Thorin and Dwalin reappeared. The brothers and I fell silent, and we all shifted away from each other discretely so as to not alert the king to our conversation. Dinner was ready, however, so all the dwarves gathered around and began to eat around the fire. I accepted the bowl of stew with a slight smile, balancing it awkwardly on my left hand while holding the spoon with my right. The stew was delicious, and I was rather surprised. The rangers, for all their virtues, were not the best cooks, and so good food was hard to come by.

"This is amazing," I told the dwarf who had cooked it. He looked up at me in surprise, brown eyes widening. He straightened up, braided beard bouncing.

He nodded his head, cheeks reddening as he looked around in confusion. "Me?" I nodded. "Oh… thank you, my lady."

"I'm not a lady," I said before I stopped myself. I pressed my hand against my lips, green eyes widening. "I'm sorry, I didn't—"

He chuckled. "I understand. You _are _a lady, though. You're not a man, that much is clear." I grinned. "Bombur," he said, bowing slightly. "At your service."

I rose to my feet and curtsied, bowing my head. When I lifted it, I met the ginger-bearded dwarves eyes unashamedly. "Aeyera at yours."

He smiled and refilled my bowl as I sat down. I devoured the second bowl of stew as well. I hadn't had its like since… ever, really. Maybe in the Greenwood, but it was so long ago that I was hard pressed to remember the taste of any food besides that of a plant. Soon after dinner, the dwarves laid out their packs and bedrolls and settled in for the night, many dangerously close to the edge of the cliff. I shuddered and pulled my cloak tighter around my shoulders. How they were unaffected by the height, I'll never know.

I rubbed my shoulder absently through the cloth tunic, wincing as my fingertips dug into the knotted scars that roped along most of my body. How my face remained undefiled, I do not know, but I was eternally grateful. I rubbed the lumpy skin, making my way from my forearm to the back of my neck, and pulled my braid to the side to reach it.

"What's on your neck?"

I jumped and released my grip on my braid, tugging the leather thong off the end so that my hair fell loose around my shoulders in a dark curtain. I turned to face Fili's brother, who was watching me closely. Fili was watching me as well, although he had not spoken. "What?"

"Your neck," he said, gesturing with the stem of his pipe. "Your scar."

I looked away and stared into the fire. The sun had long since set, and the stars were out. The area was silent except for the nickering of ponies, the crackling of the fire, and chirps and creaks of the woodland creatures, and the snores and sleepy mutterings of the dwarves. A log shifted, sending a shower of sparks high into the air.

"I got hurt a long time ago," I finally said, looking back up to meet the young dwarf's eyes.

He frowned, dark eyebrows furrowing together. "What happened?"

"I don't even know your name," I said, smiling wryly. "I can't give away my secrets to someone I can't know, can I?"

He smiled, sticking the mouthpiece between his lips. He stood and bowed, strands of hair falling across his face. "Kili. At your service."

I rose to my feet, finding that we stood eye to eye. I curtsied, breaking eye contact for a moment. "Aeyera at yours."

We both resumed our seats, and Kili puffed on his pipe contentedly. "What happened?" he asked. I looked up questioningly, crossing my ankles as I stretched out with my back against a fallen log. "To give you that scar."

I cringed at the memory. "I'd rather not say, young Kili. It is not a pleasant tale, nor is it one I like to recount."

He nodded reluctantly, but before we could speak again, Bilbo crossed over to where we sat. "Can you not sleep?" I asked him.

He shook his head irritably. "No. Too many distractions." I looked over and quickly discovered the source of his discomfort. Bombur was sound asleep, and his inhales were causing a small group of moths to be sucked inside his mouth. His exhales would blow them out, but they were quickly pulled back in again. I stifled a grin and turned back to the fire.

As I opened my mouth to speak again, a horrible screech cut through the air, and I sprang upwards so quickly that I tripped over my cloak and would have fallen into the fire had Bilbo not steadied me. I looked around, frightened, and drew one of my knives with my right hand. My left was all but useless.

Bilbo moved closer to the fire, looking around nervously. "What was that?" Bilbo asked, wide eyes reflecting back the firelight.

"Orcs," Kili said, a solemn and shocked look on his face. He removed the pipe from his mouth and leaned forward.

Thorin, who had been dozing several yards away, jerked awake upon hearing the word "orcs."

"Orcs?" Bilbo repeated, horrified. Thorin met my gaze, startled, as the brothers continued. I glared at him as I twirled my knife angrily, and I saw his gaze drop to my bandaged hand. A look of guilt crossed his face, but I turned back to the fire before anything else could happen.

Fili was speaking now, his voice low and dangerous. He looked around at his 'audience,' blue eyes glittering with mischief as mine narrowed in suspicion. His voice was both nonchalant and cautious, a mixture that confused me. "Throat-cutters. There'll be dozens of them out there. The lowlands are crawling with them."

Kili picked up where he left off, voice husky and low as if he were sharing a solemn secret. "They strike in the wee small hours, when everyone's asleep." I shuddered, the hair on the back of my neck raising. My scars itched and twinged with discomfort. "Quick and quiet; no screams, just lots of blood."

Bilbo looked away in fright, eyes adjusting to the darkness. Fili and Kili looked at one another and began laughing quietly. I narrowed my eyes at them and rolled my shoulders, relieving some of the tension built up under the scar tissue there.

"You think that's funny?" I bit out. I turned in surprise; mine was not the only voice that spoke those words. Thorin crossed to stand beside me, glowering at the brothers.

"You think a night raid by orcs is a joke?" The prince asked, glaring menacingly at the brothers as he crossed his arms, one hand fingering the hilt of his sword.

Kili looked down, abashed. Shame crossed his face as he turned his head, dropping his eyes to the ground. "We didn't mean anything by it."

Thorin scoffed. "No, you didn't. You know nothing of the world." Thorin turned on his heel and walked off to the edge of the cliff. He stopped at the edge and looked out over the valley, breathing heavily. I moved so that my back rested against the gnarled trunk of an old holly tree, beyond irritated at the brothers. Balin walked up to us and stopped next to Fili and Kili, leaning against the wall of the stone outcropping.

"Don't mind them, laddie." Balin glanced over at me, and I wondered if Gandalf had spoken to the old advisor about my past. "Thorin has more cause than most to hate orcs. After the dragon took the Lonely Mountain, King Thror tried to reclaim the ancient dwarf kingdom of Moria." The old dwarf stared into the fire, reliving the story as he told it. Sorrow clouded his features, and I turned over to face them. "But our enemy had got there first. Moria had been taken by legions of Orcs lead by the most vile of all their race: Azog, the Defiler." My head jerked up as the scars on my back gave a particularly painful throb. The shadows of madness that so often haunted my mind were back, clamoring for attention, but the knowledge that I was safe—at least for now—kept them at bay. "The giant Gundobad Orc had sworn to wipe out the line of Durin. He began," Balin spoke sorrowfully, looking down into the fire with wet eyes, "by beheading the King." I could hear Thorin's bellow of disbelief and pain and rage echo through the tale into the present, and I closed my eyes as tears stung my own eyes. "Thrain, Thorin's father, was driven mad by grief. He went missing, taken prisoner or killed, we did not know. We were leaderless. Defeat and death were upon us. That is when I saw him: a young dwarf prince facing down the Pale Orc. He stood alone against this terrible foe, his armor rent, wielding nothing by an oaken branch as a shield. Azog, the Defiler, learned that day that the line of Durin would not be so easily broken. Our forces rallied and drove the orcs back. Our enemy had been defeated. But there was no feast, nor song, that night, for our dead were beyond the count of grief. We few had survived. And I thought to myself then, there is one who I could follow. There is one I could call King."

As Balin had told the tale, each and every dwarf had awoken. By the time he finished, every one of them had risen and stood facing their prince. I watched as Thorin turned away from the view beyond the cliff to see the entire Company awake and standing in awe, staring at him. Thorin walked between them toward the fire and I shifted, eyeing him carefully.

I spoke up, my voice hushed and frightened even to my own ears. "But the pale orc? What happened to him?"

I immediately regretted asking the question, although I desperately needed the answer. Thorin was not the same prince I once knew, and I watched him closely as he all but snarled his answer. "He slunk back into the hole whence he came. That filth died of his wounds long ago."

Thorin stalked back to wherever he had been before as the other dwarves returned to their sleeping positions. I looked up in time to catch a knowing look pass from Balin to Gandalf, and I shifted uneasily. I moved back into the firelight and remained there, unmoving, until Kili's voice startled me from my thoughts once more.

"Azog the Defiler had something to do with your scars, didn't he?" he asked quietly, fingering the bowl of his pipe.

I didn't bother looking up but kept my gaze leveled at the fire, amazed by his perception. I waited a moment before replying. "I don't think you want to know the answer, _mellon_." Gandalf met my gaze and held it for a long second before glancing away, and I moved off the log and stretched out on the ground, my gaze fixed on the stars. "Goodnight."

-O-

Because I did not sleep, I was the first awake the next morning, and therefore was the only one not sopping wet by the time the sun rose. The dwarves awoke with much grumbling and shouting, but were pleased to see that someone had moved their blankets, food, and other perishable supplies into a dry spot under the rocks.

We loaded our horses and cleared the camp as best we could before saddling up and riding away. I avoided Fili and Kili that morning, not wanted to face questions of my past, and instead rode ahead with Gandalf. I pulled my hood to cover my hair as we rode along, silent.

One of the grey-bearded dwarves was the first to seek a magical solution to the rainstorm, which had yet to lift. "Mr. Gandalf, can't you do something about this deluge?" He asked.

The wizard sniffed irritably, glaring back from under the rim of his hat. "It is raining, Master Dwarf, and it will continue to rain until the rain is done. If you wish to change the weather of the world, you should find yourself another wizard."

"How many are there?" I asked, curious. I was a friend of both Gandalf and Radagast, and I knew of Saruman the White, but I was unsure of any that could manipulate the weather.

"What?" Gandalf asked. He turned to face me, twisting on the saddle.

"Other wizards?" I repeated, pushing a sopping strand of hair out of my eyes.

"There are five of us. The greatest of our order is Saruman, the White. Then there are the two Blue wizards; you know, I've quite forgotten their names."

A feeling of sadness crept over me. How could one of the Istari forget about the others? "And who is the fifth?" I asked.

"Well, that would be Radagast, the Brown."

"Oh, yes!" I exclaimed, beaming. "He is a good man, he helped me when—" I quickly stopped speaking. I could feel eyes boring into my back and guessed that they belonged to Fili and Kili, but did not turn around.

Bilbo, who apparently had been listening in on our conversation, decided to add his own questions to the mix. He was hunched over, trying his best to avoid the rain, albeit futilely. "Is he a great Wizard or is he... more like you?"

Gandalf frowned, affronted, and I chuckled, amused at his expression. "I think he's a very great wizard, in his own way," he added. "He's a gentle soul who prefers the company of animals to others. He keeps a watchful eye over the vast forest lands to the East, and a good thing too, for always Evil will look to find a foothold in this world."

"Princess!"

I sighed, closing my eyes, and turned around. I opened my eyes to see that Fili had ridden up beside me and was beckoning to me to ride back with him. I agreed, if only because of the wizard's eerie words, and hung back to ride beside Fili and Kili. Kili spoke first, dark eyes trained on the saddle. "I'm sorry for questioning you like I did last night," he said, his voice soft. "I should not have interfered with business that was not mine. Will you forgive me?"

I was touched. I touched my undamaged hand to my forehead and then to my chest, bowing my head. "Curiosity is not a crime, Kili," I told him gently. "But my past is not a happy thing, and I do not wish to dwell on it." He nodded, relieved, and I asked a question that had been nagging at me for the past two days. "How is it that two so young came to be on this journey?"

Immediately the brothers' expressions turned guarded, and I sensed the walls that came up around them, blocking me out. I frowned, my own expression turning stony. "Fili, Kili!" Dwalin called from ahead. "Come here for a minute!"

Without saying a word, the two rode on ahead to join Dwalin. I watched them go, confused. Why had that question disturbed them so? Someone cleared their throat behind me, and I turned, shielding my eyes from the rain. To my surprise, it was Thorin that rose beside me, looking distinctly uncomfortably. "I apologize for my behavior yesterday," he said, shifting in the saddle. "I should not have attacked you the way that I did, and I am sorry for hurting you." His eyes lingered on the cut on my cheek and the bandage around my stitched up hand.

I let out a pent up breath, meeting the king's eyes. "Thorin, I understand your prejudices against my people, and I understand why you attacked me the way you did. However, you need to understand that I am not my father. I am not out to harm either you or your companions, and you should not treat me like a criminal."

He nodded, the same guarded expression on his face that had just been on Fili's and Kili's. His eyes were the color of steel in the half-light that surrounded us. "We shall see."


	10. Chapter 10

The dwarves did not spar that night, nor did they spar for nearly a week. They were caught in a never-ending rainstorm, it seemed like, and it poured for nearly a week without ceasing. The storm led to high tempers on account of their damp clothing, rusting weapons, and cold food.

On more than one occasion, one of more sour dwarves would actually accuse me of using some sort of elvish sorcery to hinder them on their journey. In response, Gandalf scoffed and reprimanded the dwarves, yelling loudly that I had no more power over the weather than he did. The dwarves would sulk and glare at me behind the wizard's back, muttering later about how I was too frightened to speak up for myself.

The only good that came from the long, _long _rain was that Fili, Kili, and I grew closer. Every night we would sit together, either by the campfire or in some slightly less wet spot and trade stories. I found out that they were the sons of a warrior, and that they trained to be like him. I learned that they had convinced Thorin to let them come because of their skills with weaponry and nothing else, and I was impressed.

On the final night of the rainstorm, in which the rain had thinned to a fine drizzle, the three of us sat in a circle under a small outcropping of rock. There were several others, so most of the company was settled and relatively dry. The ponies moved around in the shelter of a grove of trees a few yards away, neighing softly to one another.

Kili was speaking, telling me of his weapons training as a young dwarfling. "Well, the first time I picked up an axe, I was probably around… what was if, Fee, fifteen?"

He turned to his brother, who nodded and looked up from the knife he was sharpening. "Aye," he replied, rubbing down the blade so that it glimmered in the near darkness. "I was twenty at the time, and had convinced him that Master Dwalin wanted to teach him right away!"

"I'm guessing he didn't?" I laughed.

Kili scowled playfully and gave his brother a light shove. "Eh, no."

I leaned back against a rock, absently running my right thumb over the bandage covering my left palm. "Was Dwalin the weapons master for all young dwarves?" I asked, looking over at the two of them curiously.

"Aye," Fili replied, following my lead and settling back against the stone. "He taught us nearly everything we know. He and our other instructors, of course."

I sighed, running my uninjured hand through my hair. Elves healed considerably faster than humans and even dwarves, so Oin, our healer, had told me that morning that in the next week, he probably would take the stitches out but for me in the meantime to avoid any weapons training. I wondered if the dwarves were trying to get me killed. How could I not train? "I envy you," I told the dwarves.

They looked up, confused. "In what way, Aeyera?" Kili asked, frowning. I didn't understand why, but his presence comforted me, and I found myself wanting to open up to him. I did, to my surprise, more than I had even to the rangers.

"Among my people, very few—all things considering—are able to train to be a warrior. I was unable to because of my age and gender. And," I sniffed, picking at the edge of my sleeve, "because I was the _princess._" I scoffed. "I still trained though. Tauriel—she was one of my dear friends, although she is a few centuries older—taught me to shoot a bow. Once my brother found out, he took it upon himself to teach me. The rangers taught me to fight using the sword, and I've always been rather fond of knives." I pulled one from its sheath and twirled it expertly around my fingers, catching the hilt with my fingertips and shifting it to my palm.

"Do you carry throwing knives?" Fili asked eagerly.

Kili groaned, and I grinned. His brown eyes, sparkling with laughter, met mine. My heart fluttered, and my smile stretched wider, although I wasn't sure why. "Don't get him started, milady. You'll never hear the end of it if you let him begin."

I laughed and moved to sit with my legs crossed in front of me, placing my hands on my knees. "I would love to speak of weapons, Fili, but not now. Kili was telling us a story, weren't you?" I directed the last part to him, and he swelled up, looking happy that I had remembered him.

"I was. Anyway," he jumped right in, speaking quickly in case his brother tried to interrupt him. "There we were, the first day of weapons training. Dwalin had left to do something, I don't know what. Fili here," he glared playfully at his brother, who glanced at the ceiling in an attempt at feigning innocence. "Told me that Dwalin was going to teach me how to wield a battle axe. Now, I was the equivalent of a young human child's age, very young. This wasn't even weapons training, really; we wouldn't start that for a few years yet. However, our mother and uncle wanted us to be prepared for—" Fili suddenly shifted, knocking Kili in the ribs with his elbow. Whether on accident or on purpose, I couldn't tell, but Kili quickly moved on, leaving the statement and jumping to the next. "So I went and tried to pick it up. Of course, my arms are the size of toothpicks at the time," he joked, face reddening. I wondered what the two were hiding; they kept steering clear of some important detail. I felt that I should know it, but couldn't place my finger on what it was. "And I can't even lift the handle off the ground." He paused. "Fili, would you tell the next part? I can't recall what Dwalin said—but I'll be right back." He stood and exited the cave, but I was too preoccupied to notice.

I thought back to what Gandalf had said, about how we three could change the course of the future. I thought back even farther, to a secret meeting so many years ago, where the princes and kings of the East had gathered together. I remembered a young, dark haired prince with laughter in his blue eyes, and I knew. I knew, and I was so, so angry. I stood suddenly, startling Fili into silence.

"Princess, is something wrong?" he asked, starting to his feet. I turned an icy glare on him, and he froze, blue eyes widening in realization.

"Please sit," I bit out, sheathing my knife with a sharp _click_. "I wouldn't want to inconvenience you, _Prince._"

I turned on my heel and stormed out into the rain, letting the cold water run over my skin and dampen my hair. The dwarf did not call out to me; I had a feeling that he had been stunned into silence. I moved over to where the horses grazed and picked my way to Gwairoch, who raised his head and watched my approach with liquid eyes. I reached him and pressed my forehead against his nose, hugging him tightly. I took deep breaths, shutting my eyes. I was trembling, but not because of the cold or the rain.

I felt… tricked. Deceived. I had a horrible feeling that if Kili hadn't slipped up, I might never have realized that they were of the line of Durin. What if something had happened? What if they had gotten hurt or killed and I hadn't protected them because I had been focusing only on Thorin. Was he their father? I didn't remember if he was married or not, but there was too much a resemblance for them not to be closely related to him. I sighed and buried my head into the horse's shaggy mane. That wasn't it. That isn't why I felt so wounded. For a moment I had felt… accepted. Wanted. Now that I had a moment to myself, I found that the twists and butterflies I had felt were the beginnings of feelings. _Feelings. _For a dwarf?

Race doesn't matter, I thought sadly, petting Gwairoch's flank. Not to me, but to the dwarves it does. They hate me. They blamed me for the rain, for Eru's sake!

It was a good five minutes before I realized that it was not rain that wet my face anymore. I was crying. I couldn't remember the last time I had cried. I was sad, yes. Most of the time I was grieving, either for my mother or for my friends who had passed on. But always inwardly, never showing. I was angry though; so, _so _angry. I felt tricked; deceived.

"Your friends are worried about you, Tindómiel."

I turned to see Gandalf standing a few paces away, leaning heavily on his wooden staff. He watched me with ancient silver eyes, and I wondered how long he had stood there in the storm. "Why didn't you tell me?" My voice cracked, and I quickly wiped my face free of moisture, pulling up my hood.

"It was not my secret to tell," the wizard answered gravely. He knew, then. Of course he knew.

"I came to protect him," I said, voice rising. Without my realizing it, the language in which I spoke switched. _"To protect the line of Durin! I cannot do that if I do not know whom to protect, Mithrandir! Why didn't you tell me? If they had died, their blood would have been on my hands!"_

_ "Because you would have taken it upon you to protect them whether you knew of their lineage or not," _the wizard replied, voice rising in tune with mine. _"You know this as well as I."_

I looked down at my bandaged hand. _"Can you heal me?" _I asked suddenly.

He frowned down at me, and I suddenly felt very small. Often when I spoke to him or even thought about him I would imagine him as an old man. However, he was one of the Istari; one of the Maiar created by Eru himself to watch over Middle Earth.

I looked down, unable to hold his gaze. _"I just… If something happens, I want to be able to protect them," _I murmured, a feeling of shame washing over me. _"I can't fail again."_

The wizard placed a gnarled hand on my shoulder, and I looked up into his face to see him smiling down with compassion at me. "You will not fail," he told me, his voice seemingly deeper than before; my chest seemed to vibrate as he spoke, my heart swelling. He took my hand and held it between his, unwrapping the bandages. Oin had insisted on cleaning the wound every morning (a most unpleasant process for us and whomever's hand I grabbed to keep from screaming) so there was no blood around the edges of the stitches. The wizard, pulling a small knife out of some hidden fold in his robe, began to cut the strands of string and tug them out gently. Thankfully, the wound was mostly healed, so the gash didn't simply fall open again. However, the process was still extremely painful.

When he was done, he clasped my hand between his and closed his eyes, murmuring words in a language I had never heard. It sounded rich; beautiful, even: and I felt that I had known it once. It was like trying to recall a memory from your childhood: you had it once, but it is no longer accessible to you. My hand tingled and itched, as if losing circulation, and it felt as if my skin were writhing under his. I was grateful that I could not see it. After several minutes, he finished and pulled away. The cut had healed and been replaced by a jagged, white scar that stretched from one side of my palm to the other.

I traced it gently with my fingertips, in awe of this transformation. Raising my hand before me, I slowly bend it into a fist, waiting for the pain to come. It never did. A smile burst onto my face, and I looked up at the wizard, who watched me with a kind expression. To his surprise, I knelt down, my right hand in a fist over my heart and my left fingertips touching my forehead. _"Hantalëdh, __Olórin."_

He placed his hands on my shoulders and raised me to my feet, his eyes shining with something I could not identify. "You are very welcome, my dear. It has been a long time since anyone called me by that name," he told me kindly. "And I thank you for it."

I looked around; the sun had set completely, and the night was dark as coal. "I do not wish to face them," I said. Gandalf handed me a clean bandage, and I wrapped my hand, understanding of his intentions. Neither wished for the company to know I was healed: Gandalf did not wish to be approached for ever scrape that the company acquired, and I had no desire to be called a witch.

"Then speak to me tonight," he said, leading me past the dwarves on watch and towards the camp again. His voice was laced with humor, although his face remained impassive. "Tomorrow we can deal with the stubbornness of dwarves."

The next morning dawned bright and clear, with no indication that it had ever rained besides the wet ground. Both Fili and Kili avoided me, sending me nervous looks whenever my back was turned. Oin tried to inspect my hand, but Gandalf deterred him, saying that he had already done so. The healer went his own way, grumbling about meddling wizards.

Throughout the day, I moved between riding near Bilbo to riding with Gandalf. The hobbit had grown rather fond of me, seeing as how I was the only, and I quote, "respectable" person in the company besides himself. He asked me many more questions about life as an elf, which I did my best to answer. Some, including those that neared the topic of marriage and coming of age, I avoided without bothering being discreet.

However, there was an undercurrent of anger bubbling inside me throughout the entire day. Whenever I caught the blue or brown eyes of the dwarf princes, I would glance away angrily. For some reason, I was angriest with Kili. Why, I did not know.

During our break at noon, I was leaning against a tree, legs crossed under me, completely caught up in my thoughts. I therefore did not hear either brother calling me. One of them—I had a good guess at to who—threw a knife, which buried itself into the tree inches from my face.

"Princess!" Fili called angrily. "I'm talking to you."

In one fluid move, I ripped the knife from the tree and hurled it back in the direction that it came. It landed, blade buried deep in the earth, at Fili's feet. I drew my knives and rose to my feet, heedless of the bandage on my left hand. Both brothers watched me warily, and Fili didn't dare pick up the knife for fear of being attacked. Fili drew a set of twin swords, watching me carefully. Several of the members of the company that had been sitting around now were on their feet, looking between the three royals that looked to be about to tear one another to shreds.

"What?" I growled, settling into a defensive position. Kili placed his hand on his sword, and I tensed, eyes flickering to him.

"We just want to talk," Fili said, raising his swords.

"There's nothing to talk about," I responded. Both our voices were deadly calm. Kili drew his sword, and I readjusted the grip on my long knife, eyes narrowing.

"Drop the knives, Aeyera," Kili said, voice tense. Green eyes met brown, and his widened as he realized his mistake.

"Make me," I spat, spreading my arms out and twisting one wrist so that the knife pointed out instead of in. Fili stepped closer, but I didn't move. I waited for them; I had no desire for this to turn sour; if I moved first, the spectators would claim that it was my fault. Surprisingly, it was Kili who attacked first. He swung his blade at my waist, but I nimbly leapt over it, blocking a blow from Fili's sword with my right hand.

I noticed two things after trading several more blows. First, the two worked as a nearly seamless team, moving as one entity. Second: they avoided my left side. Clearly, although they fought me, they weren't doing it to hurt me. Also, they still thought I was hurt. I grinned, and the brothers paused in surprise. I leapt back and sheathed my right knife, drawing my sword but keeping my left blade in a loose grip in my hand.

At one _very _fortunate point in the fight, Fili tripped and fell into a tree, giving me the precise opportunity I was looking for. Darting under Kili's arm, I drove the blade of the dagger through a hole on the armor near Fili's shoulder. It didn't pierce—or even touch—his skin, but it went deep into the bark of the tree, making it impossible for him to move away. I darted into the branches, ignoring the shouts from below, and leapt out, landing behind Kili in a crouch, now armed only with my sword.

He shrugged a bit, brandishing his sword. He looked a bit uncomfortable without his brother there beside him, but he also looked very angry, which was dangerous for me. "I suppose your hand is healed?"

I tilted my head in a slight shrug, but my eyes remained narrowed, watching his movements. I could see Fili struggling with the dagger behind Kili, so I knew I had nothing to fear from him, at least for now. "Why do you care, your _highness?_"

His face went slack for a fraction of a second before a guarded expression came up. "How'd you figure it out?" he asked, starting to the right. I didn't move. I knew that trick—circle your opponent, get them to do the same—and his brother would attack from behind. I had used the method many times before with Aragorn and Arador both.

When he saw that I wasn't moving, he attacked. Our blades locked above our heads, and we pushed against each other. The main thing keeping me from being prevailed against was my experience; I had to have at least seventy years on him. However, although we stood nearly at the same height, he was considerably stronger than I. Knowing that if we stayed much longer I would be overcome, I shoved against him, hard, and spun away. Although the force of my push had not knocked him off balance like I had hoped, I had gotten away.

He came after me, and I forgot about our audience, I forgot about his brother, I forgot about my promise to Olórin. I went into total survival mode, and I slashed wildly but precisely with my blade, landing blows with the flat of the steel but never with the sharp edge.

We danced together, swords sparking as we each parried and deflected blows that could have killed. We would come together, swords pressed against each other so that our faces were a hair's breadth away—and then shove apart, only to meet again seconds later.

My heart was pounding. I was barely sweating, but my heart drummed against my chest like a frightened bird. The old wound in my side ached, but still we fought on. "Answer me," Kili barked, his breath coming in short pants. "How did you find out?"

I jumped back to avoid a slash from his sword, noting that Fili apparently had stopped struggling against the knife—and caught the edge of his sword on mine, locking them. "You look just like him," I bit out. His eyes widened. "Now answer me—" I spun about and ducked under his sword, knocking it away from my face. "Why did you lie to me?"

"I didn't," he shot back. Sweat dripped off his face; his hair was soaked. He knocked my blade aside, but I ducked before he could hit me.

I swung at him as hard as I could without intent to kill. "Stop _lying!_"

That swing was my downfall. Quite literally, it turned out. Kili ducked under it and tackled me, knocking me to the ground. My sword flew out of my hands and landed in the grass a few feet away. Kili sat astride my waist, sword at my neck, looking shocked that he had won the match. Neither of us moved. His face was inches from mine, and he spoke, gasping for breath. "I never lied to you."

"Kili!" Fili finally had gotten free and moved over to us, taking Kili's sword before pulling his brother to his feet. To my surprise, he pulled me up as well. "Impressive job, Princess," he told me, offering me both my sword and my knife.

I glanced away and accepted the weapons without looking either of them in the eye. "Time to go!" Thorin strode out of the trees; where he had been, I was not sure. Talking to Gandalf, perhaps. It seemed that fortune was on my side; he had not seen our fight. As we mounted our horses, I saw quite a bit of money trade hands, and I wondered how many of the dwarves had placed bets on who would win our spar.

Gandalf rode up beside me, grey eyes watching me disapprovingly. "You need to control your temper, Aeyera," he scolded quietly. _"Why did you attack them?"_

_"They attacked _me_,"_ I shot back, the grip on my reigns tightening.

_"After you provoked them,"_ he replied.

_"He threw a knife at me!"_ I all but yelled, turning to him angrily.

"That is beside the point," the wizard shouted. Several dwarves turned around to look at us, curious as to why the normally peaceful wizard was shouting. "If you lose your temper in a fight, do you know what will happen? Do you?" I looked away, the scars of previous fights stretching the skin of my back. "If you make a mistake like you did today, you will die." The wizard reached over and placed his hand on my shoulder. "There are no opponents you will face that are as honorable as young Kili," he said solemnly. "No warriors among the orcs or goblins or even most men who, when they have you at their mercy, will let you go free."

"I know, Mithrandir," I said softly. "I have been at both ends of such a fight, and have received and given many scars for my troubles."

He harrumphed and turned back to face the front, riding in silence for a long time.

Bilbo came up to ride beside me. "Um, Princess? Aeyera, I mean—"

I looked down at him, smiling thinly. "Yes, Bilbo?"

He fidgeted with the brass buttons on his waistcoat, looking distinctly uncomfortable. "Why did you—that is to say, why were you and—" he cleared his throat. "Why were you and Kili and Fili fighting?"

I sighed. "Bilbo—"  
Thorin interrupted us with a shout. "We'll camp here for the night."

Grateful for the interruption, I dismounted my horse and planted my feet firmly on the ground, looking around.

Bilbo all but jumped off his pony, still waiting for an answer. "Just releasing some pent up anger," I told him, striding over to Gandalf. The wizard stood inside what had once been a house, looking around nervously. I glanced around as well, unable to shake the feeling that I had been here before.

I placed my hand against one of the rotten support beams, feeling the grey wood splinter under my fingertips. Thorin continued to give out orders as he walked over. "Fili, Kili, look after the ponies; make sure you stay with them."

"A farmer and his family used to live here," the wizard said solemnly, and I remembered. I remembered a fight with a troll, one of four, and the rangers and I barely escaping with our lives; we were unable to save the family from the others, who had escaped. Whether the other three still lived around here, I did not know.

"Gandalf—"

He ignored me and turned to Thorin, who had made his way over to us and now stood several yards away, eying me warily. "Thorin, I think it would be wiser to move on. We could make for the Hidden Valley," the wizard suggested innocently. I looked up at him with raised eyebrows, both surprised and relieved. Perhaps I could receive help for my scars if we went there. However, I knew what the Dwarf's answer would be.

"I have told you already..." Thorin said, leaning towards the wizard and giving me a distrusting glare. "I will not go near that place."

"Why not?" I asked, stepping closer to him. "The Elves could help us. We could get food, rest, advice."

"I do not need your advice," he snarled. "Nor that of your people."

"We have a map that we cannot read," he said, his sharp voice full of wisdom. Thorin turned back to him. "Lord Elrond could help us."

The dwarf prince scoffed and went to stand by the fireplace, which was the only part of the house not falling apart. "Help?" the dwarf repeated menacingly. "A dragon attacks Erebor. What help came from the Elves?" He spared me a look but said nothing in regards to my actions, the actions that had led to my banishment and torture. Granted, he didn't truly know of the consequences of my choices, but it was infuriating all the same for him to treat my sacrifices as nothing. "The Orcs plunder Moria; desecrate our sacred halls. The Elves looked on and did nothing. And you ask me to seek out the very people who betrayed my grandfather, who betrayed my father."

"You are neither of them," the wizard replied, exasperated and angry. "I did not give you that map and key for you to hold onto the past."

"I did not know that they were yours to keep," Thorin spat, looking up at the wizard.

Gandalf glared at the dwarf before turning and storming away angrily, leaving the Company and heading back to the path we had just left.

"Everything alright?" Bilbo called.

_"Olórin, where are you going?" _I yelled, moving quickly to intercept him.

"To seek the company of the only one around here who's got any sense," the wizard snapped, glaring at me over his shoulder. I stopped dead in my tracks, not daring to pursue him further.

"Who's that?" Bilbo asked.

"Myself, Mr. Baggins! I've had enough of dwarves and elves for one day." With that, he disappeared alone the path we had recently vacated.

Thorin didn't seem abashed in the least, but continued giving orders to the others, who were setting up camp. "Come on, Bombur, we're hungry."

Bilbo turned to me, brown eyes wide. "Is he coming back?"

I shrugged helplessly, fingering the bandage wrapped around my palm. "I don't know."

"Princess!" I turned sharply to see Fili walking towards me. I nodded my head, never keeping my eyes off him. He nodded back and stopped a few yards away, noticing the way I tensed when he drew close. "Would you like to spar?" he asked. "Kili and I have to watch the ponies, so we don't have much to do."

I blinked in surprise. I had thought that he and his brother would not want to speak to me after the fight that afternoon. "I-I would be honored," I stammered, still stunned. He nodded and turned, leading me a ways into the woods where the ponies were grazing. There was a clearing in the center, and Fili took off his swords and propped them against a tree, drawing two long knives instead.

I mimicked his movements, setting my other weapons against an opposite tree. Kili leaned against one behind his brother, face impassive. His eyes gleamed in the light that trickled in among the leaves. Fili had already cleared a large circle, and we stood in the center. "Rules are simple," he said, twirling one of his knives lazily. "No maiming or killing," he began, and I nodded. Obviously. "First one out of the circle or first to surrender: loses."

I tilted my head. "Surrender?" I repeated. "Is that not dishonorable?"

"Not if your opponent is holding a knife to your throat," he replied cheekily. "Now—Kili will be judging the fight, making sure neither of us uses foul play, and determining the winner. He will _not,_" here the blonde prince shot his brother a sharp look. "Interfere."

I understood then. Fili wanted a chance to prove himself after our last fight, where he had been pinned to a tree. "Alright," Kili said, pushing himself up. "Let the spar begin in three, two, one—"

We struck at the same time, blades singing as they whipped through the air. Knives were so much more mobile than swords, and therefore my smaller and lighter form was finally able to be an advantage. Not as much as it would have been had I been fighting someone like Thorin or Dwalin—Eru forbid—but enough for me to dance around Fili without getting caught on one of his blades.

We continued to spar, striking and darting away, knives clanging together. On occasion, fountains of sparks would shoot up as the metals collided, and I wondered if it was because of the conflicting races behind them—elf made knives and dwarf made daggers. As the day wore on, my energy faded with it. I was already sore and tired from my previous fight, but Fili seemed to grow in energy, even though sweat shone on his brow. The shadows thickened, and still the fight wore on.

Fili suddenly darted forward and knocked one of my knives away, so that I only fought with one. I succeeded in kicking one out of his hand, but he quickly drew another from the folds of his coat.

"Not fair," I panted, glancing at his brother, who was tossing my blade from hand to hand, seemingly amused.

"All part of the game, Princess," Fili replied, eyeing me as we circled each other, wary of each other. We both darted forward, and within seconds, each stood centimeters away from the other. My knife was pressed to his throat, and one of his was pressed to mine. The other rested on the back of my neck. We stood, breathing heavily, for several moments, staring defiantly into each other's eyes.

"Draw," Kili said, swaggering over and eyeing his brother and I carefully. We stepped away from one another carefully, making sure not to nick the other with our blades as we withdrew them.

"You are an admirable warrior, Princess," Fili said, handing me my weapons.

I smiled and strapped them on. "And you as well, Prince." Kili stepped up and offered me my dagger, hilt towards me. I accepted slowly, never breaking eye contact, and slid it into its sheath. "Thank you," I murmured.

"You're welcome."

"Um, Kili? Princess?" Fili called. It had grown too dark for mortal eyes to see, but to mine, and to those of the dwarves, it was but twilight. Fili stood peering anxiously into the darkness, and Kili and I joined him. The ponies still grazed, but—where were Daisy and Bungo?

The faint sound of footsteps reached my ears, and I looked around to see Bilbo approaching, balancing three bowls of soup in his arms.

"What's the matter?" Bilbo asked, offering us the bowls of stew. None of us moved. A horrible chill began to creep up the base of my spine.

"We're supposed to be looking out for the ponies," Kili said flatly, staring blankly ahead of him. I could see his dark eyes darting back and forth, scanning the darkness for any sign of the missing horses.

His brother continued, clearly worried. "Only we've encountered a slight… problem. We _had_ sixteen. Now, there's fourteen."

One, two, three… there's Gwairoch, good, he's alright; seven, eight, nine… eleven, twelve? That can't be right: Fili just said fourteen. I counted again. Twelve. Oh dear. Gandalf's and my horses were safe, both standing very close together with ears pricked for any sign of danger.

"There're only twelve," I said, counting a third time.

"Daisy and Bungo are missing," Kili said, looking around as if expecting the missing steeds to appear out of thin air.

"Well, that's not good. That is not good at all… Shouldn't we tell Thorin?" Bilbo asked. I glanced at the brothers, who were staring at one another with wide eyes.

"Uhh, no," Fili began, voice nonchalant. "Let's not worry him. As our official burglar—_and_ tracker," he added to me, "We thought you two might like to look into it," Fili said conversationally.

"No," I replied flatly. The two dwarves gave me patronizing looks and turned to Bilbo.

"Well, uh... it looks like something big uprooted these trees," Bilbo stammered, looking around. He quite obviously did not like getting put on the spot, because he turned around nervously, searching for anything that could be used to explain the missing ponies.

_Trolls, _I thought, shuddering. "Kili—"

"That was our thinking," he said. He continued looking around, paying me no mind. I glared at him as my hands began to shake.

"_Kili,_" I tried, very nervous by now.

"Something very big, and possibly quite dangerous," Bilbo went on, looking quite lost.

"Fili!" I tried, growing more and more afraid by the moment.

"Hey! There's a light. Over here! Stay down." As Fili spotted the fire, the three of them quietly ran through the forest toward it, and they hid behind a log when they grew close enough. I chased after them, merely looking to confirm my suspicions before running off for help.

"What is it?" Bilbo asked.

"Trolls. Aeyera, you're an elf; use your ears! Why didn't you warn us?" Kili accused.

I narrowed my eyes at him, and he looked away, clearly sensing my lack of patience. "You—"

Fili and Kili ran toward the fire before I could retort, and I watched them for a moment before turning, muttering about the recklessness of dwarves. I hadn't taken one step back towards camp, however, when something crashed to my left. Without thinking, I jumped behind a tree and watched as a massive mountain troll walked toward the fire, carrying a pony under each arm.

"He's got Myrtle and Minty! I think they're going to eat them, we have to do something," Bilbo said, looking determined. I bit my lip. One of those ponies belonged to Thorin; he would not be at all happy if she was eaten. Without another word, I began sprinting through the trees back to the other horses, not waiting to see where the conversation went. My footsteps made little to no noise on the forest floor, and I was astride Gwairoch and flying towards the path in moments. With any luck, our wizard wouldn't be too far ahead.

_"Fly, Gwairoch," _I told him, crouching low on his neck as he began to speed up. _"Fly!"_

The forest sped by on either side of the old path, trees and shadows blurring together. The silvery starlight lit the way a bit, and I sped towards where I prayed Gandalf had gone. It had been nearly ten minutes, and I had yet to spot him. My quiver knocked a steady beat against my back as Gwairoch galloped on, and I was close to losing hope and turning around to face the troll myself when I spotted Gandalf's grey cloak ahead of me.

"Gandalf!" I called, pulling back on Gwairoch's reigns and slowing him to a halt. He pranced around uneasily, turning in circles. "Troll—He took the ponies—Quickly—"

"Has it found the dwarves?" he asked, eyes gleaming from under the brim of his hat. He reached over and grabbed Gwairoch's bridle, steadying him.

"Not when I left," I gasped. "But Master Baggins—"

He began running in the opposite direction, and I followed on horseback. "Gandalf, what are you—?"

"Go on ahead!" he yelled. I was surprised at his speed; he moved much faster than any mortal man of his physical stature could. "They need you now! I will be right behind you, now _go!_" At the last word, he swatted Gwairoch's flank. The stallion leapt forward and with all the speed of the wind began flying back towards camp.

The time it took to reach the dwarves seemed like no time and a lifetime. I dismounted Gwairoch and raced on by foot, not wanting to risk being heard by the troll. I followed the firelight until I reached the edge of the clearing and then stopped, frozen in horror.

Not one, but _three _trolls stood encircling a fire, above which most of the company hung, tied to a spit. I leaned back against a tree, feeling faint. How in Middle Earth was I supposed to fix this?

Muffled yells from the other side of the fire caught my attention, and I inched along at the edge of the shadows until I saw them: Thorin, Kili, Bombur, Bilbo, and several others; all tied up in sacks. Why, exactly, they were tied up in sacks, I will never know. However, I was extremely grateful and relieved when I realized that I did not have to do everything alone. If I could just get them free…

Thorin was silencing Kili and another dwarf, who were muttering to each other. "That spineless she-elf isn't coming back," he snarled. I didn't catch what Kili and his companion had said, but I heard Thorin full well, and I shrunk back, hurt. "She turned and ran at the first sign of trouble, tail between her legs. The _princess _is probably halfway to the Greenwood by now."

I turned away and shifted my attention to the trolls, who were arguing about how exactly to cook the dwarves. "Never mind the seasoning; we ain't got all night! Dawn ain't far away, so let's get a move on. I don't fancy being turned to stone."

Stone? I thought back to how exactly we had defeated the one troll years and years before, and I remembered, a slight smile growing on my face despite the horrible situation.

Bilbo's voice rang out through the clearing as he hopped to his feet, struggling to stay balanced within the sack. "Wait! You are making a terrible, mistake."

"You can't reason with them, they're half-wits!" One of the dwarves called out angrily from the spit.

"Half-wits?" Bofur cried, "What does that make us?"

Bilbo finally managed to stand up straight, although still tied up in the sack. He faced the trolls, turning his back to me, and I crouched down and set an arrow to the string of my bow, waiting for Gandalf to appear. "I meant with the, uh, with the seasoning."

The first troll leaned down close to the hobbit, his deep voice reverberating deep in my bones even from ten paces away. I shivered, recognizing him as one of those who had taken the farmer's family so long ago. "What about the seasoning?"

Bilbo scoffed, and I imagined that if he could have placed his hands on his hips, he would have. I pulled the bowstring taut, waiting for the opportune moment to strike. "Well, have you smelt them? You're going to need something stronger than sage before you plate this lot up."

At his words, the dwarves all begin to shout at Bilbo. Some kicked at him, others called him a traitor. I nearly shot at them, if only to defend the brave hobbit who was risking his life to play for time.

"What do you know about cooking dwarf?" Another troll asked indignantly, peering blindly down at him.

"Shut up. Let the, uh, flurgaburburrahobbit talk," the third snapped, interested in what Bilbo had to say. He leaned in closer, enormous milky eyes fixed on Bilbo.

"Uh, the secret to cooking dwarf is, um—" Bilbo paused, thinking very quickly. I shifted my weight and, changing my mind, sheathed my bow. If this went south, arrows would be no good.

The troll began to grow impatient, and I slowly rose to my feet. "Yes? Come on, tell us the secret."

"Um, yes, I'm telling you, the secret is… to skin them first!" Bilbo exclaimed. Major objections broke out from the dwarves, and threats were hurled his way, although I didn't really blame them; some of them threatened to beat poor Bilbo, others threatened to skin him.

"Tom, get me the filleting knife," the same troll said, gesturing to the other, who sat behind him.

"What a load of rubbish!" 'Tom' said, not bothering to move towards the knife lying by his side. "I've eaten plenty with their skins on. Scuff them, I say, boots and all!"

I began striding forward quickly, fear rising up in me, as the troll spoke again. "He's right! Nothing wrong with a bit of raw dwarf! Nice and crunchy." One of them grabbed Bombur and dangled him upside down over his mouth, about to eat him.

"Not that one, he's infected!" Bilbo yelped.

Both the trolls and I froze, staring at Bilbo. The one holding Bombur pulled back, eyeing him suspiciously. "You what?"

"He's got worms in his … tubes," Bilbo said, sounding desperately confused. The troll holding Bombur let out a very feminine shriek of disgust and threw him back into the pile of Dwarves. "In fact they all have it, they're all infested with parasites. It's a terrible business; I wouldn't risk it, I really wouldn't."

"Parasites, did he say parasites?" Oin yelled.

"We don't have parasites! You have parasites!" Kili shouted angrily. The other dwarves began to rebel against their only hope of salvation, shouting at Bilbo.

"You fool!" One yelled.

"I don't have parasites!" Another snarled, holding his head up to prevent his beard from singing. "I'm clean as a whistle!"

Bilbo hung his head in frustration, and I watched as Thorin, suddenly understanding, kicked Kili in the shoulder, hard. There was a brief pause of about three seconds during which every dwarf in the pile seemed to realize what was going on, and they all chimed in at once, each claiming to have enormous, non-edible parasites.

"I've got parasites as big as my arm!"

"Mine are the biggest parasites, I've got huge parasites!" Kili yelped.

Tom the troll turned to Bilbo, finally catching on. "What would you have us do, then, let 'em all go?"

Bilbo shrugged. "Well..."

"You think I don't know what you're up to? This little ferret is taking us for fools!" He yelled to his friends.

Bilbo spoke up, offended. "Ferret?!"

"Fools?" A troll repeated.

"What's that?" One asked.

With a horrible feeling of terror, I realized that when Bilbo had stopped the trolls from eating Bombur, he had stopped my rescue as well. I now stood, completely visible, in the midst of the trolls and the dwarves. And to be quite honest, I wasn't sure which I would rather have been with; both were giving me some pretty nasty looks.

"Hey, I know 'er," one said, loping over to me and picking me up around the waist as I tried to turn and escape back to the trees to formulate a new plan. "She's one o' them rangers."

"Right!" Tom agreed. "She was the one who killed Buck, she was." His companion tightened his grip, and I gasped, digging my fingernails into his skin. "What should we do with 'er?"

"Let us go," I said as authoritatively as I could while being squeezed to death. "Or I will bring an end to your lives as well."

The troll holding me threw my down in front of the fire. I landed hard on my side, and the momentum carried me nearly into the fire. The force of hitting the ground knocked the wind from my lungs, and I managed to pull myself to my knees, drawing my knife from its sheath as I gasped for breath, my chest burning.

I looked up, eyes ablaze, as one of the trolls gripped me by the back of my neck, quite effectively cutting off any means of escape. He held up his knife; I could see its shadow on the ground. I felt the edge touch my neck, and I looked up, meeting Kili's eyes. They were wide and filled with fear, both for his kin and for me. I gripped my knife tighter as the troll pulled back, then reached back and stabbed the blade through his hand, launching myself forward as his grip faltered. I fell forward a couple paces away, but one of the trolls pressed his foot down on my midsection, pinning me to the ground. I yelled, fighting him, but I couldn't escape. My heart sank as I heard a loud _snap_, and then several smaller ones, and I realized quickly that my bow and most of my arrows were now useless.

"Anythin' you'd like to take back?" the troll asked as his friend handed him the knife. He pointed down at me with one finger.

Gandalf's voice cut through the clamor. I hadn't noticed, but nearly every dwarf had been shouting at the trolls to release me the entire time. "The dawn shall take you all!"

"Who's that?" the troll on me asked, moving off just a bit.

"No idea."

"Can we eat him too?"

Gandalf struck the rock with his staff, splitting it in half and allowing the sunlight behind it to pour into the clearing. The instant the sunlight touched the trolls' skin, they began turning into stone, flesh steaming. Their screams echoed through the clearing as they twisted away from the light. The one pinning me down jerked away, giving me enough time to squirm out from under him before he became permanently immobile. As the trolls ceased their motions, all the dwarves began cheering for Gandalf.

The dwarves on the spit, Dwalin included, were still quite irritable about being strung up like a sack of meat. "Oh, get your foot out of my back!"

I moved off a bit as the difficult transition of moving the dwarves from the spit to the ground began. Many—all—of the dwarves were in their long underwear—including the royals—and I had no wish to see anything by accident. I circled the troll statues, glaring at them and hugging my middle. I wouldn't have been surprised if my ribs were very badly bruised. Broken, no. My entire chest had been crushed before. I knew what true pain was, and although this hurt, it was nowhere near the agony I had felt before.

I pulled my ruined bow and quiver off my back and lay them on the ground before me, surveying the damage. The bow was snapped in half, completely unfixable. Of the two-dozen arrows in my quiver originally, only five remained unscathed. The others either had broken shafts or torn fletching. I moved over to the fire and was not surprised to see several arrowheads sprinkled around the center. Several of them must have fallen out when I was thrown over to the fire.

The dwarves, now fully clothed and armed, began moving around, checking for any missing weapons and eyeing the troll statues warily as if afraid they would spring back to life. I tossed my useless bow and arrows into the fire. No point in leaving them around for orcs to find.

Thorin strode up to Gandalf, and I listened quietly, watching them out of the corner of my eye even as I climbed up onto one of the troll's wrists, in which my knife was buried. I grasped it tightly and pulled, but it didn't budge. I doubted that anything could move it. With one last half-hearted tug, I jumped back to the ground, whipping my hands on my tunic. "Where did you go to, if I may ask?"

"To look ahead," the wizard replied, moving to the next troll.

"What brought you back?" Thorin asked, following him.

The wizard gave him a sidelong glance. "Looking behind. Nasty business. Still, you are all in one piece."

Thorin scoffed. "No thanks to your burglar, or your elf."

I glanced away, tears of anger stinging my eyes. I blinked them back. "Bilbo had the nerve to play for time. None of the rest of you thought of that. As for the princess, she is the reason I looked behind. If she had not found me and brought me back, you would be a troll's breakfast by now." Thorin looked down thoughtfully, and I moved away as he and Gandalf continued examining the statues of the trolls together.

"Princess."

I turned to see Fili and Kili next to the statue of Tom, and I moved to stand next to them, no longer eavesdropping on the wizard's conversation. "I heard what Gandalf said," Kili blurted suddenly. I turned to him, blinking in surprise. "I'm sorry I doubted you. I thought you had run away and left us to die. I was wrong."

I couldn't tell whether I should feel hurt or humbled. I bowed slightly to him, keeping my hand pressed against my aching side. "I understand your concern, Kili," I said softly. "As well as your prejudices. But please understand that I would never betray you or your company."

It was the brothers' turn to be humbled. They both bowed. "We know. Fili," the prince said.

"And Kili," the other finished. They came out of their bow. "At your service."

"Aeyera!" Gandalf strode over and placed his hand on my shoulder. "You have been here before, have you not?" Without waiting for a reply, he plowed on, ignoring the miffed stares from the brothers he had interrupted. "I believe there to be a troll hoard here somewhere; a place the trolls could have gone during the day. Do you know where it is?"

I shook my head, shuddering. "No, Mithrandir. The last time I was here was several decades ago, and the rangers and I did not search for the rotting chasm they crawled out of. We were lucky to escape with our lives."

His eyes searched mine for a few moments before he finally nodded. Giving my shoulder a squeeze, he turned and headed back towards the main bulk of the company, leaving Kili and Fili and I alone.

"I am sorry for the way I acted towards you both before," I said softly, turning to look both of them in the eye. For some reason, it was harder to look into Kili's brown than it was to peer into Fili's blue. "I should not have responded in the way that I did; it was uncalled for and unnecessary. For that, I am sorry."

The company began to split into several groups to search for the cave, with a couple staying behind to watch the ponies. Gwairoch trotted over to me and pressed his velvet muzzle against my cheek.

"No, no, I understand," Kili said, shuffling his feet. "We shouldn't have hid out heritage from you. It's just that…" he trailed off and looked to his brother for help.

Fili picked up where his brother left off, blue eyes drilling into mine as if challenging me. "If the enemy finds out whom we are related to," he said, voice sharp. "It could very well be the end of us."

"Your father?" I questioned, glancing between the brothers and Thorin. Fili and Thorin had the same eyes and nose, and Kili shared hair color and facial structure. All three had the same regal bearing.

Pain flashed through Fili's eyes, and he looked away. "No," he said, voice laden with grief. "Our father died many decades ago." I crossed my arms over my chest, hugging myself to keep warm. He looked back up at me, eyes blazing. "He is our uncle."

I nodded. It made much more sense. I did not recall hearing of Thorin being married, so these would be the sons of either Prince Frerin or Princess Dís. "Are you his sister's sons?" I asked softly. "Or his brother's?"

"Our uncle Frerin died long before our time," Kili said, his voice much softer than his brother's. "We are the sons of Dís."

"What of your heritage?" Fili asked. I glanced away from his scrutinizing stare.

"I am the daughter of Aeyleria, Queen of the Greenwood, and sister of Legolas Greenleaf, Princes of the Greenwood."

"What of your father?" Kili asked curiously. "The king?"

I looked away, suddenly finding it impossible to meet his gaze. "Thranduil is no father of mine."

"But… he's your father," Fili said, hesitating. "Your family."

"No," I replied, clenching my fists so tightly that my fingernails dug into my palms, leaving small, crescent-shaped indents in my skin.

"What did he do to make you hate him?" Kili asked. I looked up, once again surprised by how little difference there was in our heights. We stood eye to eye.

"He left you," I whispered. "He left you to fire. When I tried to help, he—"

"Thorin! We found it!"

We all looked at one another and followed after the shout, not speaking a word. I could smell the troll hoard before we saw it, and by the time we reached it, nearly everyone was gagging.

Nori retched. "What's that stench?!"

Gandalf frowned irritably, face paler than usual. "It's a troll horde. Be careful what you touch."

I stepped inside first, passing by the other dwarves hanging back at the entrance, reluctant to travel further into the wretched domain. As much as I would have loved to follow their example, I knew I had to find weapons.

My eyes adjusted immediately to the darkness, and I looked around at the piles of gold. Small to one such as myself, or to the dwarves, but an impressive amount all the same.

"Seems a shame just to leave it lying around. Anyone could take it," one said, referring to the treasure. I moved further in, eyeing a bundle that looked to have been tossed carelessly into the corner.

"Agreed. Nori, get a shovel."

I crouched down next to the bundle and stifled a scream when a large spider crawled onto it. With a growl, I used my remaining knife to smack the arachnid off the package, glaring after it.

"These swords were not made by any troll," Gandalf's voice echoed through the cave. "Nor were they made by any smith among men." The sound of a sword being drawn reached my ears as I unfolded the wrapping of my own sack.

I gasped in awe as I beheld the twin mithril knives in my hand, both many centuries older than I. Engravings were etched near the hilt, in a language I could not read. I unwrapped the bundle further to reveal a quiver of mithril tipped arrows and a bow of yew, oiled and well taken care of, being magic. I stood and tested the bow, impressed by its strength. At that moment, Gandalf's words made sense. "These were forged in Gondolin by the High Elves of the First Age." I spun around, shocked. Thorin, who had unsheathed a sword of beautiful make, was placing it back in the barrel, a look of disgust on his face.

"You could not wish for a finer blade," I snapped, strapping my bow and quiver to my back. Unwillingly, Thorin held on to the sword, cobwebs sticking to his hands. He drew it out of its sheath a few inches as well, and I watched with a knowing smile as he marveled briefly at its craftsmanship.

As I made my way to the door, I saw several of my companions filling a chest with treasure, and then burying it in a hastily dug hole in the ground. Dwalin looked on in disinterest. "We're making a long term deposit," One said, smiling up at his cousin.

Thorin followed my lead and began leaving the troll hoard. "Let's get out of this foul place. Come on, let's go. Bofur! Gloin! Nori!"

I followed Thorin, and as I made my way out, I stepped on something odd, which clanged upon contact with my shoe. Confused, I knelt down and began brushing away old leaves and sticks to reveal a small sword, rather like the knives I now held. I picked it up, testing its weight, and headed out of the cave. Bilbo sat on a log several paces away from the others, looking on but not involving himself in anything. Kneeling before him, I held out the small sword to Bilbo, the blade balanced between my palms.

"Bilbo," I began, looking up into his startled face. "I give this to you as a gift. Every warrior needs a weapon with which to defend himself. Or herself," I added softly. "Also, I owe you a sincere apology. I did not realize that my absence would place you in danger, and I am very sorry that I left when I did. I thank you for your bravery and knowledge, for without you the company would be no more. Please accept this as a token of my gratitude."

The poor hobbit looked startled and afraid. "I can't take this."

I pressed the sword into his shaking hands, noting with pride that he grasped it tightly. I spoke again, not yet rising to my feet. "The blade is of Elvish make, which means it will glow blue when orcs or goblins are nearby."

"I have never used a sword in my life," he said softly, looking worried.

"And I hope you never have to," I answered, straightening up and placing my hand on his shoulder. He looked up at me, and I held his gaze. "And if you do, remember this: true courage is about knowing not when to take a life, but when to spare one."

The hobbit looked humbled and opened his mouth to say something, but I cut him off, lifting my hand into the air quickly to silence him. Something wasn't right. I turned my head, scanning the green woods for any sign of danger. Birds chirped in the trees, and squirrels raced from branch to branch, but there was no visible sign of danger.

Then I heard it: the sound of breaking branches, accompanied by the sound of many feet pounding against the earth. And it was heading straight toward us.

"Something's coming!" I yelled.

"Gandalf—" Bilbo yelped, looking around for the wizard.

"Stay together! Hurry now. Arm yourselves." As I watched, Bilbo slowly drew his sword and looked at it hesitantly, a growing determination in his eyes. It did not glow blue. Looking up, he followed the others, who had rushed to safety without looking back. With one last glance at the woods behind me, I followed.


	11. Chapter 11

I followed the company as they sprinted away from the unknown danger, not wishing to face it. The Dwarves, bless them, had not been created for running, so it was not long before Thorin called for the company to halt. I stopped, skirting around the edge of the company to stand beside the wizard, a strange feeling blooming in my chest. A few of the dwarves, who stood doubled over with their hands on their knees while gasping for breath, gave me sour looks. I looked around, my breathing even, as the sound of the footsteps grew clearer. I closed my eyes, listening closely. Within seconds, the sound of tiny paws was distinguished from the sound of a sled, and I leapt forward to stand in between the company's weapons and the brown wizard.

"Radagast!" I shouted, forcing Kili to lower his bow as a smile stretched across my face. As the words left my mouth, Radagast the Brown, who had been riding at full speed through the forest on his rabbit-drawn sleigh, pulled up short next to the Company. Many of them blinked in surprise and looked between the two wizards. Bilbo had drawn his sword and now looked quite confused, not sure whether or not he should attack or put the blade away.

The old wizard was shouting, panicked. "Thieves! Fire! Murder!"

I rushed forward and embraced my old friend, catching him quite off guard. "Radagast!" I exclaimed again, pulling away and looked him over to make sure he was alright. Aside from a line of what looked to be bird droppings matting the hair on the right side of his head, he looked to be completely fine. I pointed this out to him, and he wiped it away as best he could, muttering something about the birds that had made their home in his hair beneath his hat.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, eyes wide. A horrible thought occurred to me. "Is my brother—?"

"No, no, your brother is fine," the wizard cut me off, waving his hand. The panicked and somewhat insane light reentered his eyes. "I came to speak to Gandalf, is he here?"

Gandalf pushed him way through the company. "Radagast the Brown," he said fondly, voice booming, "What on earth are you doing here?"

Radagast's eyes darted to his face and he moved closer to the wizard, crazy eyes fixed on his face. "I was looking for you, Gandalf. Something's wrong. Something's terribly wrong."

"Yes?" Gandalf asked, waiting for an answer. Radagast opened his mouth to speak, but shut it a moment later. He opened his mouth again, his finger in the air, but closed it again, puzzled. I tilted my head, blinking in confusion.

"What's wrong with him?" Bilbo asked, looking up at me. I shrugged helplessly, eyes now darting to the brush surrounding us. The warm wood suddenly felt much colder, and I stepped away from the hobbit to stand in between the wizards.

Radagast looked upset, frowning. "Just give me a minute. Oh, I had a thought, and now I've lost it. It was right there, on the tip of my tongue." He suddenly curled up his tongue, looking surprised. "Oh, it's not the thought at all; it's just a little—" Gandalf pulled a stick insect out of Radagast's mouth, much to my amusement, and placed it on my hand, "—stick insect!"

I quickly placed it on a tree, smiling at the flustered expressions of the company. With a slight nod at the company, the two wizards moved off a ways to speak, stopping me when I tried to follow.

"The Greenwood is sick, Princess," the kind wizard said. "But I cannot reveal to you more information than that."

My eyes widened. "But—"

"Stay here," Gandalf interrupted, grey eyes staring into mine. I glared back for a moment but dropped my gaze and stormed over to the company, still listening.

Radagast continued to speak. "A darkness has fallen over it. Nothing grows any more, at least nothing good. The air is foul with decay. But worst are the webs."

My eyes widened, and I froze. _Webs?!_ Gandalf spoke my concerns. "Webs? What do you mean?"

Radagast continued, nervous. "Spiders, Gandalf. Giant ones. Some kind of spawn of Ungoliant, or I am not a Wizard." I turned around and leaned against a tree for support, shaking. Kili's brown eyes locked with my green ones, and I knew that I had seconds before the conversation would be inaudible. I mentally constructed his journey in my mid as he spoke, but instead of Radagast, I saw myself. "I followed their trail. They came from Dol Guldur." I gasped, shuddered involuntarily at the name, the scars covering my body throbbing painfully. The madness in my mind whispered words of doubt and fear in my mind, and I wanted nothing more than to clamp my hands over my ears and cower to the ground in a ball, screaming.

"Dol Guldur? But the old fortress is abandoned," Gandalf said, a frown evident in his voice.

Radagast spoke, voice laced with horror. "No, Gandalf. It is not."

"Aeyera? Are you alright?"

I looked up in Kili's concerned gaze and was immediately away of the cold sweat that coated my body. I shook my head and sank down to rest on the ground, legs crossed under me, and Kili mimicked my movements. The rest of the company scattered, leaning against trees, eating, and cleaning weapons.

"No," I croaked, pressing my forehead into my hands. "No, I'm not alright." My scars throbbed and burned as if someone were pressing molten metal to my skin. I suppose something had, once, but it had been a long time ago.

He gripped my shoulder tightly, steadying me as I clenched my fists around the tree roots beneath me. "Hey, you're alright—Fili!"

The blonde dwarf loped over to us, although I didn't bother looking up. "Kee? What's wrong with her?"

"I don't know…"

Kili stepped aside as Fili knelt down before me, placing his hand on my shoulder. As he did so, darkness began to encroach on the edges of my mind and my vision. I began to shake. "Princess? Can you tell us what's wrong?"

I shook my head wildly and lifted my face to meet his eyes. He started and nearly fell over backwards when he caught sight of the crazed expression on my face. "No—I can't, I—"

Kili crouched down beside his brother, taking one of my cold hands in his abnormally warm ones. The heat of his skin surprised me, although I suppose that it made sense, him being a dwarf. "Hey, hey, calm down." My terrified green eyes met his concerned brown ones, and a sense of calm washed over me. The darkness receded slightly. He gave my hand a squeeze. "You're fine, alright? Fili and I aren't going to let anything hurt you, understand?"

I nodded even as dread began to seep into my bones. _NO! _I wanted to scream. _I have to protect you! You shouldn't be protecting me! _However, my weakened state only permitted me to nod my head. The young dwarf smiled and rose to his feet, pulling me with him. Fili rose as well, the two of them creating a protective barrier between me and the rest of the world. The darkness evaporated as fat, golden rays of sunlight poured through the leaves of the trees overhead.

A howl shattered the silence, piercing the air.

The company looked around, afraid. Some knew what was coming, while others were oblivious. I drew my new bow, Kili mimicking my movements. "Was that a wolf? Are there wolves out there?"

"Wolves? No, that is not a wolf."

From behind a nearby crag, a Warg appeared. It was as large as a horse with fangs as long as my forearm. Without warning it leapt into the midst of the Company, knocking down several of the dwarves. Thorin struck and killed it as another Warg attacked from the other side.

It leapt at Kili, and I shoved him out of the way. The enormous wolf snapped at my side, sinking its fangs into my flesh, and I cried out. An instant later it released me and recoiled, collapsing to the ground with Kili's arrow in its side. I staged back and slammed into a tree, sliding to the ground. Few to none of the dwarves noticed; they were too busy prodding the wargs and making sure they were dead.

"Princess—" Fili and Kili rushed over to me and lifted me to my feet. I wrapped my cloak around my waist, covering the wound as best I could.

"Are you alright? Why would you do that, I was fine—" Kili's face was ashen.

Thorin looked up, glaring at me as though I personally had led the orcs to our location. "Warg-Scouts!" He turned away, not noticing my wound. "Which means an Orc pack is not far behind," he growled. The company erupted with panic. Fili and Kili lifted me up, and I leaned against the princess, biting my tongue to keep from screaming as rivulets of blood tricked down my skin and soaked my cloak.

Gandalf turned to Thorin, wild eyed. "Who did you tell about your quest, beyond your kin?"

"No one," Thorin said, ignoring him and looking around to count the dwarves.

"Who did you tell?" Gandalf yelled, grabbing his shoulder and yanking him around.

The dwarf king jerked his shoulder away. "No one, I swear," Thorin bellowed back. "What in Durin's name is going on?" He asked, his voice hushed.

Gandalf straightened, no longer leaning on his staff. "You are being hunted."

"We have to get out of here," Dwalin announced, gripping his axe tightly.

"We can't!" Ori wailed, running up to the group. "We have no ponies; they bolted."

I groaned. Gwairoch was gone as well, which means I now had to retreat on foot. Kili shifted his weight to his right leg as he wrapped his arm around my torso. "You're a lot lighter than I thought you'd be," he muttered.

Radagast turned to mount his sleight. "I'll draw them off."

I lurched forward and grabbed his arm, preventing his from climbing up on the sled. "Radagast, please—these are Gundobad Wargs; they will outrun you. Please, don't do this," I pleaded, horrified that I would be forced to watch as one of my oldest friends was cut down.

The wizard turned to me, a dangerous and wily grin on his face even as he patted my head affectionately. "I'll be fine, child. These are Rhosgobel Rabbits; I'd like to see them try."

He winked at Gandalf, and then sped away. I took a step forward to follow, but my knees buckled. I would have landed face-first in the dirt had the two princes not caught me.

Gandalf approached as I forced my way to my feet. He pressed his hand against my forehead, frowning. Both princes gasped, but I was too preoccupied to think on it very much at the time.

Gandalf turned to the brothers as the company began moving. "When did this happen?"

"She—She pushed me out of the way," Kili murmured. I took a few halting steps forward, feet dragging. My skin burned, and searing pain raced through my body with every ragged breath I took.

"Carry her," the wizard demanded, turning to lead the company on. "She saved you; it is your duty to protect her until we reach a safe haven."

Kili nodded and picked me up, ignoring my feeble mewls of protest. Even I was surprised at how quickly my strength was fading; when I looked down at my now scarlet cloak, I understood. My vision began to darken as we burst through the trees, though now for a very different reason than before.

The company began to race across the plains, darting from boulder to boulder as Radagast did his best to lead the warg pack away. I could hear them barking and howling from a league away, but the sound was watery and canned, somehow.

Kili, although I could tell that he tried to be gentle, was gripping me tightly, clutching me to his chest. With every pounding footstep, another bold of white-hot pain sizzled through me. I groaned and buried my face in his chest, hot tears leaking from my eyes.

"Stay together," Gandalf panted from ahead. My head lolled on my shoulders.

"Move!" Thorin bellowed.

We continued running for long periods of time, stealing split-second breaks when we could. Whenever unconsciousness would approach, I would shake myself awake as best I could. I was afraid—nay, terrified, of what I might see should I fall out of consciousness. Because of past wounds, I did not dwell only in the land of the living. Therefore, it made falling asleep or unconscious all the more terrifying.

We halted, and I stared up at the sky, the clouds drifting in and out of focus as my sanity began slipping. Kili gently lowered me to the ground, but I didn't move. The pain began to ebb, my body going numb.

"What's wrong with her?" Someone asked worriedly, moving to stand near me. I could barely make anything out; and yet at the same time, everything was in complete focus. I could see the sweat on every dwarf's brow; see the panic and anger in Thorin's eyes; see the terror on Kili's face.

I blinked, and my grip on reality was swept away. My brother was crouched beside me, dark blue eyes roving worriedly over my face. There were other figures there as well, but I couldn't make out their faces. _"Legolas?"_ I asked dazedly in Elvish. My tongue felt like lead in my mouth, and every word was a chore. I coughed, and the taste of copper filled my nose and mouth. _"What are you doing here?"_ I raised my hand, confused at the bright red color of my skin. Moving it further, I touched his face, making sure he was real, but I frowned when my hand came into contact with whiskers. "You have a beard," I murmured sleepily, my eyes closing. My body jerked suddenly, and I whimpered. _"Legolas, help me—"_

"What's wrong with her?" Someone shouted.

I screamed and curled into a ball. My eyes rolled back in my head as the darkness overcame me, and I sank into the realm of nightmares.

Kili stared down at the now unconscious elf in his arms. His blood ran cold as he recalled the chilling shriek that had so recently tore from her now crimson stained lips. The color of her blood stood out in sharp contrast from the snow-white skin of her face. Kili stood, clutching the elf princess to his chest, as panic began to set in. Aeyera had saved his life, and had probably given hers in exchange. If she died, her blood would be on his hands.

"We must get her to safety…" the wizard muttered, staring down at the girl in alarm. His grey eyes met the horrified brown eyes of the prince, and he nodded, turning to the other. "Come on! Quick!"

Kili didn't need to be told twice. He picked up the pace, keeping by the wizard's side as they sprinted away from the howling wargs. This was nothing like how he had expected this adventure to go. He had never expected to meet an elf—his uncle's enemy's daughter, no less—much less befriend her. He gulped as a foreign but somewhat pleasant, feeling filled his stomach—almost as if butterflies were there, fluttering around. He certainly had never have expected anything, save his family, to risk dying for him. And yet here she was, a lovely, small elven princess, dying in his arms. His heart skipped a beat as he considered that she might never wake up. She was surprisingly light, and it was little struggle to carry her. The only things that got in the way were her weapons, but the young dwarf knew better than to mess with them.

The company gathered under a large stone outcropping as the howls of wargs grew nearer. "Kee," Fili said, shaking his shoulder. "Give her to me—"

Kili unconsciously gripped her tighter, and his brother frowned. The feral growls and snarls of the warg pack grew louder.

"You're the only one with a bow," Fili reminded him. "You'll need your arms to be free." Kili reluctantly handed her over, noticing with horror and revulsion that her blood now stained his arms. He drew his bow and nocked an arrow to the string, glancing back every few seconds to make sure Aeyera was alright.

She wasn't, of course. Blood curled down her arm and dripped from her fingertips. Her skin was the color of snow.

He looked down at the ground in time to see the shadow of a lone warg scout appear. The warg lifted its head, tasting the air. Kili gripped his bow tightly and slowly pulled the bowstring taut. His arms shook, but he held the arrow steady. Taking a deep breath, he leapt out from his hiding place and let the arrow fly. His aim, usually so true, failed, for although it hit the intended target, the warg and orc were merely wounded, not killed.

The warg and its rider fell from the outcropping, landing before the company. The dwarves attacked, falling upon the foul creatures with a clamor that echoed through the valley over and over again. Kili turned in horror to see the remainder of the pack turn in its pursuit of the Brown Wizard and rush to aid its fallen comrade instead. They were out of time.

Kili felt the blood drain from his face as he turned and began shoving the other dwarves along. His uncle gave him a sharp look, and the prince flinched, but Thorin's eyes widened a moment later when he saw the pack heading straight towards them.

"Move!" Kili bellowed, shoving Ori along ahead of him. Fili remained at his side, Aeyera in his arms.

The entire company began rushing away, arms and legs moving as quickly as possible. Kili kept an arrow on the string as he ran. Because of his height—he was unusually tall for a dwarf—he was the fastest, and he quickly passed all but Gandalf.

"This way! Quickly!" He yelled, turning towards the sun. We crested a hill, and Kili chanced a look back. His heart nearly stopped. The wargs were less than half a league away and gaining. He could see the flash of sunlight on the orcs' weapons, and he began to run faster, keeping very close to his older brother.

The entire company halted, circling up. They were surrounded by large rocks, with gaps in between them. "There's more coming!" Kili bellowed, moving to stand beside his brother and the fading princess. Fili was pressing her cloak against the gaping wound, but it was not doing much good. The wargs appeared over the rise, and the company began to band together, afraid and bloodthirsty.

"Kili! Shoot them!" Thorin commanded, pointing towards the advancing army. The young prince drew his bow and began firing arrow after arrow at the oncoming enemy, but for every warg or orc that he fell, another took its place.

Fili's voice echoed through the clearing. "We're surrounded!"

Kili glanced around for their wizard—perhaps he could magically depose of the enemy for him?—but he was nowhere to be seem. "Where is Gandalf?" Kili felt ashamed, for his voice came out fearful and high even as he shot down another orc.

Dwalin growled his response and tightened his grip on his axes. "He has abandoned us!"

Kili ignored him as fear encircled his heart. He turned and continued firing arrow after arrow at the Wargs and their riders, killing some of them and injuring others. He was determined to die fighting, back-to-back with his brother. His grip faltered for a moment, and an arrow whizzed over the heads of the enemy. _If he died, Aeyera would die. _ Kili glanced back to see the rest of the company gathering close to each other near the rock outcropping, not bothering to help him. Panic rose in his chest as he realized that he was completely alone. An arrow appeared in the warg's eye, and it crushed its rider as it fell, sending up a spray of dirt and loose stones as it skidded to a halt at Kili's feet.

A particularly ugly orc and his warg approached, unafraid. One of the other dwarves—Ori?—shot at it with his slingshot, which did nothing but annoy the beast. Thorin drew his sword, and a wave of terror crashed down on his youngest nephew when he realized that he was nearly out of arrows. The end was coming.

"Hold your ground!" Thorin yelled, starting towards me.

Kili turned to look at his uncle and caught sight of Gandalf popping up from a crack in the rock. He was so surprised that he nearly tripped over himself turning around. "This way, you fools!"

Thorin recovered from his shock quickly and turned to the others, herding them towards the wizard. Kili continued firing his arrows, back up as he moved closer and closer to the wizard's hiding spot. "Come on, move! Quickly, all of you! Go, go go!"

The company leapt into the wizard's cave, rolling down a sharp incline until reaching the bottom. Thorin and Kili continued fighting up above, keeping the wargs at bay as they struggled to make their way to the rest of the company. Thorin managed to make an opening and dove towards the opening. Noticing that his youngest nephew was gone, he turned. A warg was bearing down on his unsuspecting nephew, and he screamed out, "Kili! RUN!"

Realizing that he now stood alone was the first time he had ever felt true terror. He turned and sprinted away from the approaching—but now diminished—orc pack, before diving into the crack. Thorin followed last, leaping after his nephew as a warg's teeth snapped shut on empty air. The king and prince landed on the rock floor with matching groans of pain, which were muted by the strange, unearthly sound of an elvish hunting horn. Thorin pulled Kili to his feet, a look of horror on his face, as an orc tumbled down the incline, an arrow protruding from its flesh.

Thorin yanked out the arrow and examined its make before standing and throwing the shaft down in disgust. "Elves," he spat.

Kili turned to see a pathway at the end of the cave, leading away from the battle above. Dwalin stood at the entrance, peering into the dark. "I cannot see where the pathway leads. Do we follow it or no?"

Bofur jogged forward, pushing his way through the crowd. "Follow it, of course!"

Gandalf followed in his wake, a look of innocence on his face. He glanced at Aeyera, and he frowned in deep concern. "I think that would be wise."

Kili glanced at Fili, who still carried the elf princess. Her face was white, and her skin was clammy and drenched with sweat. They looked into each other's eyes and shared a knowing look before falling back to share some private words.

"How is she?" Kili asked, looking ahead at the rest of the company, who by now had begun following the path. It was quite narrow, and it was a crack between two tall cliffs. Kili and Fili had to pass the elf between them as they made their way through the pass; it was too narrow for them to walk abreast.

"Not well," Fili said, looking down at her. His eyes were panicked. Kili stared down at his bloodstained hands for a moment before pressing two of his fingers against her throat, searching for a pulse.

"Let me take her," Kili said, taking the elfling from his arms and keeping his fingers pressed to her neck. Her heart beat weakly against his fingertips. "You're going to be alright, Princess," He whispered, continuing the trek onwards. "Hurry!" he called out, his voice rising. "She hasn't got much time!"

The company sped up, and it wasn't long before the pathway opened on into a stone shelf overlooking a hidden valley. In the center lay a beautiful, white city, surrounded by forest and waterfalls.

Gandalf looked at the city in love, a gentle smile on his face. "The Valley of Imraldis," he said softly. "In the Common Tongue, it is known by a another name."

Bilbo looked on in wonder, a disbelieving smile on his lips. "Rivendell."

Gandalf looked over it as if he were its maker, a smile of pride on his face. "Here lies the last Homely House east of the sea."

Aeyera's heart skipped a beat, and she lurched slightly. With a jolt, the prince realized that he had nearly forgotten her in his daze, and he pushed his way through the company until he reached the wizard. "Gandalf!" Kili shouted, panicked. He ran up to him, gripping the elf tightly in his arms. The wizard frowned when her saw her prone form, and his face turned grave when he took in the amount of blood on her clothing.

"When did this happen?" Thorin demanded as Kili set the girl down on the stone. Gandalf knelt over her, slowly moving his hand above her face.

"I-it was when…" Kili replayed the moment in the woods again; capturing details his adrenaline-driven mind hadn't been able to take in before. "…when the second scout attacked us; the warg must have taken a swipe at her. What do we do?" He asked again, fear tearing at his heart.

"We must get her to Elrond," Gandalf said as Kili once again picked up the elfling in his arms. The company began moving at a fast pace, Fili lingering at the back as Thorin led them onward. "Hopefully he will be here."

Kili turned and headed towards Rivendell, rushing towards the city of light, a dying princess in his arms. His heart hammered against his ribs, and a warm feeling unlike any he had ever known grew in his chest. "Don't go," he whispered to Aeyera, breath hitching in his throat. "Don't leave."


	12. Chapter 12

As the company made its way nearer and nearer to the gates of Rivendell, Thorin moved to the back of the group. Red marred his vision. _How _dare_ that old _fool _drive them towards the elves? His _enemies!

The dwarf threw out his arm to prevent the wizard from moving and spoke to him, blood roaring in his ears. "This was your plan all along," He snarled, fuming. "To seek refuge with our enemy."

Gandalf looked at him with disappointment and poorly concealed anger. He pushed passed his outstretched arm and continued towards Imladris, keeping a keen eye on young Kili, who cradled the fading princess in his arms. He moved so quickly that Thorin had to jog to keep up with the wizard's long strides. "You have no enemies here, Thorin Oakenshield. The only ill-will to be found in this valley is that which you bring yourself."

"Do you think the Elves will give our quest their blessing? They will try to stop us," Thorin argued, raising his voice. Several of the dwarves glanced back apprehensively but did not stop moving.

Gandalf huffed in irritation, annoyed with and tired of Thorin's childish behavior. "Of course they will. But we have questions that need to be answered. If we are to be successful, this will need to be handled with tact and respect and no small degree of charm. Which is why you will leave the talking to me."

As soon as he finished speaking, the first dwarves passed under the stone pillars lining the entrance to the city. Sweet music filled the air, although it was a bit faint. A river flowed beneath their feet. Many of the dwarves glanced suspiciously around, as if expecting to be attacked. Several others though, including young Kili, looked around with delight, obviously impressed. Their pleased expressions melted away, however, when a tall elf lord with long brown hair appeared at the top of a staircase before them. He wore a dark robe with a high collar, and he descended slowly, one hand before him and the other behind. His cloak billowed behind him as he moved, although there was no wind.

When he reached the same level as the dwarves, he bowed his head, light eyes focusing on the wizard. "Mithrandir," he smiled, pressing his hand to his heart and bowing.

Gandalf smiled back, clearly pleased. "Ah, Lindir!" As Lindir and Gandalf spoke to each other, the other dwarves murmured amongst themselves in distrust.

_"We heard you had crossed into the Valley_,_" _Lindir said softly, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Gandalf waved away his comment, his face grave. _"I must speak with Lord Elrond," _he demanded firmly_. "And our companion needs immediate attention."_

The elf frowned as Gandalf turned around, beckoning to Kili to bring Aeyera forward. _"My lord Elrond is not here." _

Gandalf paled visibly as he took the princess' prone form from the young prince, who handed her over with clear reluctance. _"Not here? Where is he?" _

The elf lord paled as well, when he saw who it was the wizard held. _"Mithrandir, is that—"_

An elvish hunting horn torn through the peace of the valley, its clear tune somehow fitting along with the music and the birdsong already present there. A band of armed, mounted elves appeared, quite close to the entrance of the city. Panic filled the heart of every dwarf, and they pressed together in a tight circle, shoving the hobbit and the two young princes into the middle.

_"Ready weapons!" _Thorin bellowed. The company shifted their weapons to point outwards, each dwarf wearing a snarl on his face except for Kili, whose eyes were glued to the princess in Gandalf's arms. _"Hold ranks!" _

The mounted Elves arrived reigned their mounts in, encircling the dwarves. The Elves were nearly as wary of the dwarves as the dwarves were of them, although these particular Elves were wiser than their woodland kin. Eventually, they halted their circling as their leader, a dark haired lord with a silver circlet, dismounted and separated himself from the others.

The elf smiled knowingly and made his way over to the wizard. "Gandalf."

Gandalf bowed his head. _"Elrond, she needs immediate attention."_

_ "I will go and return quickly." _The elf took her into his arms, nodded, and rushed away before the dwarves could react. To Gandalf's immense surprise, exclamations of outrage and anger broke out among the dwarves. He was most surprised, though, to see that Kili was not objecting. The elves surrounding them murmured to one another in their own tongue, some frowning and some wearing awed expressions.

_"What is it?" _Gandalf asked the nearest elf.

She looked at him with wide blue eyes and dismounted. She bowed, placing her hand over her heart. _"Lord Mithrandir, to what are you referring?"_

_ "Your companions look as though they have seen a ghost," _he said curiously, mindful of the distrusting glared being sent his way by the dwarves.

The elf stood at the same height as he, so it was not difficult for him to see the flush that lit her cheeks. She brushed her hair over her right shoulder, revealing a long, pale scar stretching from the edge of her collarbone and reaching down to disappear down her back, over her left shoulder. _"The Lady Aeyera is the one who inspired my fellow soldiers and I to defend the dwarves of Erebor," _she said proudly. She shouldered her quiver and grabbed ahold of the reigns of her restless mount. She frowned suddenly, the action marring her clear future. _"Alas, none of us have seen our princess since that fateful day." _She lifted her eyes to meet those of the wizard, and her open face revealed her worry for the princess. _"And now she is here, and—oh, Mithrandir, is she alright?"_

Lindir appeared a moment later, sparing Gandalf from answering. "Your companion is being tended to by Lord Elrond," he said gently. The elf maid remounted and glanced over the company quickly, her eyes lingering a bit longer on the young princes than on the others. "And he bade me show you to your rooms."

Thorin nodded warily as the riders exited the courtyard, some sending worried glances back towards the group. Lindir turned and proceeded up the stairs, leaving the dwarves to scramble after him, still guarding the young heirs. Gandalf walked at the front of the procession, studiously ignoring Thorin's angry glares in his direction.

"Mithrandir!" The company turned to see a fair-haired elf hurrying towards them. The dwarves stiffened despite the elf's obvious lack of weapons. He stopped in front of Gandalf and bowed, his hand over his heart. His face was pale and drawn, and his hands shook. He still could not believe his eyes. Princess Aeyera, the one who had inspired him to defend the dwarves of Erebor, was _here. _ And she was dying. _"My Lord, the princess, she—"_

_"Is she alive?" _The wizard barked.

The elf jumped. _"Yes, Lord, but she is very weak, and very sick. Please, Lord Elrond requires your assistance. Will you come with me?"_

The company looked on with eyes veiled by mistrust. Kili stepped forward. "Where is Aeyera?" he demanded. "Tell me!"

The elf, who had focused all his attention on the wizard, now turned his bright eyes on the young dwarf. "The Lady Aeyera is being looked after by Lord Elrond," he said in accented Westron. "She is in safe hands, I assure you. Mithrandir, please, you must come—"

"I am coming," Gandalf said, waving for the elf to move. The messenger turned and rushed away, the wizard following in his wake. The steady thump of his staff echoed on the floor as the pair swept away.

Lindir, now distinctly uncomfortable, led the dwarves to their chamber. It was a large room, with many mattresses spread out neatly on the floor, each made up neatly with fresh linens. There were fourteen beds, one for each dwarf and hobbit.

"We're missin' two," Bofur piped up as the rest of the company began seizing pallets for themselves. Several dwarves straightened and began counting the dwarves, making sure no one had been left behind or added to their company. "Where're Master Gandalf and Aeyera sleepin'?"

Lindir straightened and looked down his nose at him with thinly masked distain. "_Princess _Aeyera will have her own chambers, once she is healed. As for the wizard, he will reside wherever he wishes." He turned to go. "Oh, and there is a large bath beyond those doors. I will send someone to fetch you for dinner later." He swept out of the room, dark cloak billowing behind him as he doors slammed shut.

"Dolt," Gloin snorted, throwing his pack down beside his mattress.

Kili placed his bag down beside his own pallet and eyed the door. He wondered if he could find the wizard, if he tried. The rest of the company began moving towards the other room, muttering something about stink and sweat. Glancing quickly around, he darted for the door, pulled it open, and was outside a moment later.

He had barely taken two steps, however, when his brother's voice echoed through the elven hall. "Kee." He froze, closing his eyes. He was caught. He opened them and turned to see Fili leaning against the now shut door, eyebrows raised. "Where do you think you're going?"

Kili licked his lips, discovering that his mouth had become very dry. "To see—to see Aeyera," he managed. "She jumped in front of me… and she's dying, I—"

Fili held up his hand. "I _meant_," he grinned. "Where are you going without _me_?" A matching grin appeared on the younger's face as the elder winked at him. "C'mon," he whispered, grabbing his brother's hand and pulling him down the hall. "They went this way."

The brothers ran side by side down the elven halls, occasionally glancing around to take in the beauty of the elven city. Fat, golden beams of sunlight slanted through the empty spaces where windows might have sat. A warm breeze swept through the halls, carrying the sound of birdsong and the scent of grass and flowers. The river rushed on, and smaller streams wound their way freely through the courtyards Durin's sons occasionally stumbled upon.

Finally, after what seemed like hours to Fili and Kili, they happened upon the Grey Wizard, who sat tiredly on a bench outside a closed door. His hat sat in his lap, and he leaned heavily on his staff. He appeared to be sleeping, but his eyes opened as the brothers approached, and he nodded at them. "I wondered when you two would come," he said, struggling to his feet. "Lord Elrond is attending to the Lady now."

"How is she?" Kili blurted. Fili glanced at him in concern. His little brother's hands were shaking, and he looked pale and clammy. He squeezed Kili's shoulder in a comforting manner.

The wizard sighed. "I am not a healer," he said. "Once, perhaps. I can heal minor wounds, and awaken those who sleep, as well as put to sleep those who are awake. I cannot, however, heal such grievous wounds or bring someone back who has passed on. She is not dead, Kili," he added hurriedly, for the poor dwarf's face had gone ashen, and he looked on the verge of fainting. "But she is dying. Another few minutes, and we might have lost her. You have some strength in you, young one," he smiled fondly. "Not many of your kin would have willingly aided—or accepted aid from—an elf."

The door behind Gandalf opened, and an elven maid with long blonde hair appeared. She was tall, and fair, and old, and terrifying. Kili and Fili took involuntary steps back when she appeared. She smiled at them and bowed her head, speaking silently to them each in turn, then spoke to Gandalf.

_"She is fading, Mithrandir. I do not know how much longer she can hold on."_

He stood quickly and swept inside, leaving the door open behind him. Galadriel gave the brothers a knowing look before following the wizard. Kili wasted no time but hurried after her, his brother on his heels.

Aeyera lay upon a cushioned table, and blood painted her skin crimson. Her tunic had been cut away, but she was covered so as to prevent anyone seeing her while indecent. The skin that was visible was crisscrossed with white scars, the sight of which stopped the brothers in their tracks. Elrond stood beside her, washing her wounds and murmuring healing spells in a language long forgotten by most in Middle Earth. The air was tinged with the scent of iron. Kili froze, face white, and Fili steadied him as he began to sway. As they gazed on, dazed, Elrond pressed a soggy wad of herbs to the incisions in the princess' skin and held them there. Even as they watched, blood seeped through them and trickled down her stomach and onto the table. Kili closed his eyes, pressing a fist to his stomach. He thought he might be sick.

_"Bring me more Athelas and cloths, quickly!" _Elrond barked. An elf ran from the room while another scrambled for bandages. The latter brought them to the elf Lord hurriedly, and then rushed to wash the soiled ones.

"Kili, Fili, come here." The brothers started when the wizard said their names but inched closer all the same, their eyes glued to the princess' prone form.

"I need to stitch her wounds closed," Elrond said tersely, cleaning the blood from around one of the jagged punctures marring Aeyera's skin. "I need you to hold her down, in case she awakens."

Kili blanched, and Fili paled. "Sir?"

"Do as I say," he snapped, seizing a needle and thick thread. He pressed a small, fresh clump of boiled Athelas into the incision and took a deep breath, pressing the tip of the threaded needle against her skin. He glanced up at them, and each brother took careful hold of one of her shoulders and arms, holding her down as gently as possible. "Alright," he murmured. He began sewing her flesh back together, and Kili closed his eyes as vomit rose in his throat. He would not be sick—especially because there was nowhere _to_ be sick. Fili's grip tightened on her arm as she flinched in her sleep. He had suffered many injuries, as had his brother—but none so gruesome as this. Chunks of skin and flesh had been torn away as if she had been a deer set upon by a wolf. He could see the white glint of bone, in some places, and he had to look away.

After what seemed like a lifetime, Elrond sat back, mopping sweat from his face with a clean rag. It was nearly sunset, and warm light streamed through the windows. The dwarves had never wavered, although they had not been able to look at the patient throughout the procedure.

"It is done," he said, his voice exceedingly tired. The elven princess' breath had evened out, and although her face was still pale, he knew she would be alright. Both brothers relaxed their hold on her and stepped away. The elf observed them carefully. Both were pale and sweaty and had dried blood on their clothes. The younger one was shaking. Elrond stood and faced the brothers. "You did well," he told them. "Please, go clean yourselves. You deserve rest and food, both of which I will provide."

At that moment, the doors burst open, revealing a livid Thorin. His hair was still wet, and damp patches marked the blue cloth on his shoulders. His eyes darted around the room until they came to rest on his nephews, who shrank back slightly. The only ones remaining in the room were Elrond, Gandalf, Aeyera, Fili, and Kili.

Thorin stormed over to the group, jaw locked in anger, but before he could say a word, Elrond spoke, crossing his arms over his chest in a placating manner. "Welcome Thorin, son of Thrain."

Thorin blinked, and his eyebrows lifted in surprise. He shifted uncomfortably, and his anger gave way to wariness. "I do not believe we have met."

Elrond looked him over, unconsciously cleaning the blood from his hands with a damp towel. "You have your grandfather's bearing. I knew Thror when he ruled over the Mountain."

Thorin blinked and gazed back at him arrogantly. "Indeed, he made no mention of you."

Ignoring this insult, Elrond turned to Gandalf and spoke softly to him. _"Calm the prince," _he said. _"And later you can explain to me how you came by the princess of the woodland realm, for no word had been had of her in nearly two centuries."_

Gandalf nodded wearily and stood, placing his hands on the shoulders of Fili and Kili. "Follow me, both of you," he grumbled. "You two get cleaned up while Lord Elrond tends to our Princess." When Kili tried to hold back, the wizard tightened his hold. "Come, master Kili," he muttered. "She'll be fine."

Finally he relented and allowed Gandalf to steer him and his brother from the room, Thorin following behind. He led them back to their quarters, where the rest of the company waited nervously for their arrival. When the king and his heirs arrived, the other dwarves visibly relaxed and allowed them to pass through the room to bathe. The wizard left them then, saying that he would be back to escort them to dinner.

Kili sighed and pulled of his outer tunic. Only he and his brother remained in the room; the others had left to explore the grounds. He sank down on the edge of the bath, resting his pounding head in his hands. How had he let this happen? If he had been quicker, moved faster… if he had quicker reflexes, then maybe…

"Stop it, Kee."

He looked up to see Fili watching his in concern. "Sorry?"

The elder shook his head as he sank beneath the water. "You're beating yourself up over what happened to Aeyera. It wasn't your fault."

"But…" he stopped himself. It would do no good to argue.

His brother gave him a searching look, then shrugged. "Besides, the elf—Elrond—he knew her. I'm sure he'll take care of her. He just spent the whole day healing her, didn't he?" Kili nodded reluctantly. "See? She'll be fine, Kee. Trust me." Fili grinned and splashed Kili with water. The younger allowed a small smile to cross his face as he jumped in as well, dousing the elder. By the time someone thought to check on them, water was seeping under the door, much to Lindir's dismay, and had completely soaked the bathroom.

The brothers dressed quickly and followed the rest of the company to dinner. The sun was just barely peeking over the horizon, and the sky was ablaze with different hues of pink and gold. That was the only brilliant part of dinner, at least to the dwarves. The food, to the dwarves' dismay, was naturally grown fruits and vegetables—no meat whatsoever, as was the custom of elves.

Several members of the company picked forlornly at their lettuce, and Dori was vainly urging his younger brother to try his food. "Just a mouthful," he coaxed.

Ori pouted and crossed his arms over his chest. "I don't like green food."

Kili picked up a radish and nibbled on the end, then made a face and quickly placed it back on its dish. Dwalin dug through his bowl of leaves for the third time as if meat might have miraculously appeared there since the last time he checked. "Where's the meat?"

"Have they got any chips?"

An Elf maiden, who inadvertently reminded most of the company of Aeyera, played a harp in the background. Kili shifted his gaze back to his plate. He could feel the elves watching him; he knew they were angry with him for allowing their young kinswoman to come to harm.

"She'll be alright, you know," Fili whispered to him.

He jumped, banging his knee against the table. "What?"

"She'll be fine. Elves're tougher than we give them credit for. You'll see. She'll be back to challenging us to duels in no time," he joked.

Kili nodded and looked down at his food, too queasy to eat.

Meanwhile, Elrond and Gandalf walked through the halls of Rivendell. They paused in the next hall from where the dwarves ate, speaking softly so as to not be overheard. Aeyera had been tended to and now was sleeping steadily. She would make it, although she would carry the scars as a reminder of her actions for the rest of her life.

"Kind of you to invite us," Gandalf told the half-elf good-naturedly. "I'm not really dressed for dinner."

Elrond smiled. "Well, you never are." They both laughed, but quickly turned somber. "The princess had been struck with a blade even I have little knowledge of," Elrond said. "And she has endured more torture than anyone can imagine. More than she should have been able to survive."

Gandalf paused and leaned heavily against a railing, suddenly feeling his age. He had walked Middle Earth for thousands of years, but death and pain never became easier to deal with. "How is she still alive?"

The elf lord shrugged, lifting his hands as if in supplication. "Strength. It is possible that love carried her through, though the love was for her brother or for someone else, I do not know."

"She will live, though?" The wizard asked.

Elrond nodded. "Yes. She is stronger than most—she will heal."

They arrived at the courtyard where the dwarves were eating, ending their conversation. Kili stood and crossed over to the pair, ignoring the thirteen pairs of eyes on his back. "How is Aeyera?" he asked. "Is she…?"

Elrond smiled grimly and placed his hand on the dwarf's shoulder. "She's alive," he said. Kili sighed in relief, his shoulders slumping. "However, I found several things when healing her that need to be discussed."

"What? What are they?" he asked impatiently, voice urgent. His eyes widened in fear.

"That is not a conversation to be held here," the elf replied, glancing over at Thorin, who eyed them warily. "I will speak with you later on."

"But—"

"Kili, c'mere," Fili called, hoping to distract him. Kili glanced over his shoulder, giving Elrond the opportunity he needed to slip away to the head of the table and sit down. Kili returned to his seat beside his brother, keeping an eye on the elf at all times. Elrond had barely time to straighten his robes before he was presented with the two swords Gandalf had discovered in the troll hoard. He looked first at the blade belonging to Thorin. He gazed at it in wonder, drawing it from its sheath and reading the runes near the hilt. The torchlight glinted off the burnished steel, dancing off the walls. "This is Orcrist, the Goblin Cleaver. A famous blade, forged by the High Elves of the West—my kin. May it serve you well," he finished, sheathing the blade and handing it back to Thorin, who accepted it with a nod of gratitude. Kili eyed it curiously, noticing that the king did not seem as loathe holding it now. Elrond then examined Gandalf's sword, a look of pride upon his face. A smile graced his lips. "And this is Glamdring, the Foe-hammer, sword of the King of Gondolin. These swords were made for goblin wars of the First Age..."

Kili looked away as Bilbo pulled his sword out, holding it across his lap. He glanced over at Elrond, trying to decide whether or not he should show it to the great elf in the hopes that it would be some great and famous blade. Balin, smiling gently, dashed those hopes. "I wouldn't bother, laddie. Swords are named for the great deeds they do in war."

Bilbo looked over at the elderly dwarf, smiling bemusedly. "What are you saying, my sword hasn't seen battle?"

Balin grimaced, shrugging. "I'm not actually sure it is a sword; more of a letter opener, really." Bilbo frowned and looked down at his sword again, disappointed.

Elrond spoke again, handing the sword back to Gandalf with awe on his face. "How did you come by these?"

Gandalf smiled, accepting the blade. "We found them in a troll hoard on the Great East Road, shortly before we were ambushed by orcs."

Elrond raised his eyebrows, glancing between the wizard and the dwarf king. "And what were you doing on the Great East Road?" Thorin frowned, a guarded look crossing his face as he clenched his fists under the table. "Master Kili," Elrond said, standing suddenly. "Might I have a word with you?"

The young prince all but leaped from his seat. "Of course," he said, breathless. Thorin frowned, but Fili winked at him before returning to picking at his salad.

The two walked together from the hall; the dwarf's head barely reached Elrond's elbow. Unlike Aeyera, this elf stood at least two feet taller than Kili.

"How is she?" Kili asked. Moonlight poured through the halls, bathing the marble in a blue-white glow. Crickets and bullfrogs chirped and croaked, lighting up the night with their music as effectively as the stars did with their light.

"Why don't you see for yourself?" He answered, stopping at an oaken door. He paused, fingers resting on the handle. "You should know this first. She carried many scars before I received her into my care; many more than someone so young and pure should ever have to bear. There are traces of a dark magic that linger about her; of such a kind I barely remember."

Kili frowned. "'So young?'" He repeated. "How old is she? I thought all elves were near the same age, just centuries and centuries old."

He smiled at the dwarf's naivety. "No. We are not all the same age. I, for instance, have lived on this earth since the first age of Middle Earth."

"The first age…?" He repeated, awestruck.

"Yes," He said, smiling sadly. The weight of the ages pressing down upon him was easy to see, and it made the young dwarf prince wonder how long his own princess had been alive in this world. _'His princess?'_

"But what of Aeyera?" He pressed, "You said she was young. Does it mean that she is young for an elf, or compared to you, or…?"

Elrond chuckled. "She is very young compared to me, but still quite a bit older than you."

"How—"

"She is one hundred and ninety-six years old," Elrond said. "And you are, if I am not mistaken, in your mid seventies?" Kili nodded. "She is an elfling by most standards, and considered even more so because of her size and looks."

"So she would not know of this magic," Kili thought aloud. "But you do." The elf remained silent and stared at the oak door before him. "You _do _remember," he urged. "Surely you could not have forgotten if this magic has disturbed you so."

He looked Kili up and down. "You are quite sharp, for a dwarf," he said, and Kili knew he meant it as a complement. "There are few among men, Halflings, or your own race who could have guessed this. Yes, I remember, though the last time I sensed such darkness was nearly three thousand years ago. Yet this is not important now," he said, ending that particular conversation. "What is important is that the princess will live. She will, however, carry a burden none of you have to bear."

Kili frowned as anxiety clenched his stomach. "And what is that?" He asked.

"She has been wounded by a Morgul blade," Elrond relented.

Kili glanced around as though the answer were about to leap from thin air. "What does that mean?"

"Her wound is one that can not be healed."

Fear clutched at the dwarf's heart. "What will happen to her?"

"She will live on Middle Earth until she can no longer bear her burden. Then she will set sail for the Undying Lands with the rest of her kin."

"She… she's leaving?" He stammered, horrified.

"Not yet," Elrond told him, placing a comforting hand on Kili's shoulder. "She has grown fond of your company; I could not keep her here if I tried. However, someday, she will leave, and you will be unable to stop her. You will have to let her go."

"And…" he licked his lips nervously, "And if she doesn't go? If she chooses to stay?"

Elrond gazed at the dwarf gravely, and Kili could see pools of grief shimmering in his eyes. "I hope you never have to find out."

He turned to the door and pushed it open quietly, motioning Kili inside with his hand. He moved inside, expecting the elf to leave, but he stayed inside and moved to the princess' bedside after shutting the door. Kili followed slowly, still trying to process the information he had just been told.

Aeyera lay upon a bed, her torso wrapped in bandages and her lower body covered by sheets. Her dark hair was spread like a mane around her head, and her wound was uncovered. Kili was shocked at what he saw: the gruesome wound had closed, and angry red scars lay where there had been torn flesh a few mere hours ago.

"Stand back," Elrond said, moving closer to her and placing his hands over the scars. Kili became aware of a sharp, fresh smell in the air coming from a pan of boiled water next to the elves. Elrond pulled a bundle of what looked like weeds from it and pressed it to her skin, murmuring a song-like incantation as steam filled the room.

Kili sat in a chair beside her bed, staring at his hands. The elf's words mingled with the mist on the air, and the dwarf realized with a start that the language he spoke was as old as Middle Earth itself. He listened raptly until he finished nearly an hour later. Elrond straightened, exhausted. The scars on Aeyera's skin were now a faint pink, and the princess was still sound asleep.

"She will be fine," he said. "Because of her lineage, she will heal quickly—much more quickly than a man would. She should be able to travel within a week." Kili nodded gratefully, unable to speak. Elrond led Kili out and back to where the rest of the company rested, promising to fetch him when the princess woke up. Kili fell asleep as soon as his head hit the mattress, and his dreams were troubled and dark.

I awoke feeling refreshed and confused, staring up at a paneled ceiling of a room that looked strangely like my own in the Greenwood. My torso ached, and as I lay still the memories came rushing back. I gasped and pushed my way upright, determined to find the company. The room was empty. A glance down revealed that where a gaping wound had once been, only scars remained. I had to look away—I couldn't stand to see the scars from the whips and blades of a century ago mingling with the new bite marks on my skin.

I tentatively stood, knees shaking. A light, green robe was draped over the back of a chair beside the bed. I grabbed it, slinging it around my shoulders and gently easing my arms into it. I wore light leggings underneath, and was barefoot.

Taking a deep breath, I made my way out of the room and into the twisting hallways of Rivendell. Moonlight streamed through the pillars, lighting up the elven city. Stars shone overhead, and their light soothed me even as my wound throbbed. The paths led down, and the sound of a thundering waterfall filled the air. The sound of voices reached my ears, muffled by the sound of rushing water but still audible to my ears. I froze behind a column, listening.

"So this is your purpose, to enter the Mountain."

I blinked as Thorin's voice joined the first, and I started forward again until the group came into view. I paused in the shadows, reluctant to reveal myself just yet. "What of it?"

The elf who first spoke held out a map to Thorin. He was tall and regal, and a silver circlet rested upon his crown. "There are some who would not deem it wise."

Thorin snatched the map away, holding it as though it were about to crumble to nothing.

Gandalf turned to the elf, "Who do you mean?"

The elf looked at Gandalf, wisdom shining in his eyes, and I became aware that this was the Lord Elrond whom I had tried to see so many times before. "You are not the only guardian to stand watch over Middle-earth." He turned and strode away. The wizard turned back to gaze at the moon, lost in thought.

Elrond passed by me and paused, watching my hidden form. "Lord Elrond," I called weakly, stepping out of the shadows and bowing as much as I dared. "It is an honor, my lord."

Elrond bowed back. "The same, my lady. You are much better than you were before. I am glad. May I ask you something?"

"Of course." He held out his arm for me to take, and I accepted it gratefully. He led my back to my room. Any elves that we passed bowed to us, murmuring salutations before passing us by, but never stopping.

"The White Council is meeting," he said solemnly. "You alone of all the elves have seen the rifts between it which have grown as of late. You saw them once as a child; you can discern them again, should you be present when they appear. I would ask that you join our meeting while you are in Imladris."

"I do not understand," I told him.

"Once as a girl you saw what happened when the dwarves were attacked. You were the first to try to help."

"The first? I thought I was the only one to help," I replied, eyes wide. Had someone else gone to the dwarves' aid?

"Some of your people followed your lead, my lady. They were banished, as you were, and live here now. You have seen the evil that divides us, Princess." I nodded. "Come explain to the council, please."

I opened my mouth in surprise but bowed my head all the same. "I would be honored, my lord."

He smiled gently at me, and the starlight made his fair skin glow. "I will have your garments and weapons returned to you before the meeting," he told me. "Although I recommend you not bring your weapons to a peaceful gathering."

I smiled back softly as we reached my room. "Of course."

He turned to leave, and I suddenly remembered the strange weapons I had found in the troll hoard. "My lord, wait!" I exclaimed, reaching out and catching the edge of his sleeve. He turned back as I opened the door. "I found several weapons in a troll hoard along the Great East Road, could you identify them for me?"

"I already have," he said, smiling gravely at me. "I do not know how they came to be in your possession, but your should hold onto them carefully. The arrows are woven with an ancient magic; they will rarely miss their target if the heart wielding them is true. The knives and sword are unlike any others I have seen, but from what I have found, they seem to be the weapons of Turgon, the ancient Elven king of the Noldor." I gripped the doorframe, nearly falling over in shock. How had these blades come to me? "They have been lost for many an age; I know not how you came by them. However, it seems that his weapons desire to be found, as the sword Glamdring, which also belonged to him, was found by Mithrandir in the same cave where these weapons were found." I nodded mutely, and the elf lord stood. "Rest now. I know that at least one of your companions desires greatly to see you," he said, departing.

I closed the door and crossed back to the bed, heaving myself onto it and lying on my back. I thought back to the events from before. Kili… was he alright? My eyelids grew heavy, and I dropped off to the elvish form of sleeping, blending starlight and moonlight and dreams into one as the night lengthened.

"Wake up. Brother, wake up, quick!"

Kili groaned and opened his eyes, shoving his brother away. "Fee—stop it—"

"She's awake, Aeyera's awake!"

Kili's eyes snapped open and he sat bolt upright. "What?"

Fili grinned from ear to ear and pulled him out of bed. "She's awake! She's alright, come on!" Kili started for the door, then stopped. Fili turned, confused, then crossed back over to him, a look of understanding passing over his face. "It wasn't your fault, Kee."

He hung his head. "She jumped in front of it to save me," he said miserably. "It's my fault she almost died."  
_

I hurried towards the room the dwarves shared, holding my skirts up past my knees to prevent my tripping over them. My bare feet pounded against the smooth floors as stands of hair blew back from my face. I stopped in front of the door, heart pounding against my ribcage. My side and chest ached, but considering what horrible shape I had been in the day before, it was nothing. I took a deep breath, butterflies filling my stomach.

I pressed my hand against the door, ready to push it open, but paused when Fili's voice reached my ears. "It wasn't your fault, Kee."

A pause followed. "She jumped in front of it to save me," Kili said, his voice hushed and miserable. "It's my fault she almost died. What if… what if she's angry with me? What if she hates me?"

I pressed my hand against my mouth, letting the hem of my dress fall to swing around my toes. He thought I hated him?

"She doesn't hate you, Kili," Fili said firmly. "C'mon." Without warning, the door swung open. I stood frozen, gazing with wide eyes at the two brothers. Fili looked just as surprised as I did that I was standing there. Kili looked terrible. His eyes were red and puffy from lack of sleep, and his hair was in complete disarray.

"Hi," I managed. Kili's eyes widened, and he took a step back, looking afraid. My heart broke, and I rushed towards him. He lifted his arms as if to protect himself, but I brushed by them and threw my arms around his neck, burying my face in his shoulder. He stiffened, but hesitantly returned my embrace. Fili smiled at me from over his brother's shoulder. "Thank you," I said, my words muffled in his shirt.

He pulled away. "W-what?" Wonder filled his voice. "Why would you _thank _me?"

Still standing with my arms around his neck, I tilted my head. "You _saved_ me," I said, eyes widening. "I would have died if you haven't gotten me here." I pulled away and curtsied, wincing as the raw skin on my stomach stretched uncomfortably. "I owe you my life, Prince Kili."

He pulled me to my feet, shaking his head. "No. You saved me, and I helped you afterwards. I owe you my life. But—" he held up a hand as I tried to interrupt. "If you won't except that, then I guess we can say that we're even."

I nodded, relief flooding my features. "Alright."

_"My Lady!"_ I turned in surprise as one of my kin appeared in the doorway_. "I have been looking everywhere for you. My Lord Elrond asked me to lead you to the great hall, he says there are some peoples he wishes for you to see."_

I nodded and followed after a hasty goodbye to Fili and Kili. He led me through twisting paths and passageways, taking respites when I needed to catch my breath. When we reached the doors, I expected him to leave, but he remained by my side, a smile on his lips. He removed his silver cloak, revealing the hunting gear of a woodland elf. My mouth opened in astonishment, but before I could ask him my question, he winked at me and slipped inside the doors.

I could here whispering and laughter from within, and my heart swelled. I took a deep breath, pulling at a stray curl. I was suddenly very nervous. If these were my people—and I was suddenly very sure that they were—shouldn't I greet them as a princess? The answer came immediately. No. They followed me and were exiled with me. They waited for their fellow soldier, not their princess.

I took a step forward and pushed open the doors. The bright light blinded me for a moment, but my eyes adjusted quickly, and I covered my mouth as tears sprang to my eyes. Several hundred elves stood inside, all in their hunter's garb from Mirkwood. Most of the faces I recognized but some, like the one who led me here, I had never met.

The room fell silent as the doors swung shut behind me. _"Aeyera."_ I knew that voice. He had been my brother's best friend, once, and I had known him my whole life, loving his like my own brother. He was a captain in my father's army, and he stepped forward, bowing. _"It has been too long."_ A smile crossed my face, and I ran into his arms, laughing and crying as he spun me around, embracing me.

_"Aicanar!"_ He placed me on my feet once more. _"What are you all doing here?"_ I looked around the room in awe. _"Lord Elrond told me that some stayed behind, but—"_

_"When you rushed to the aid of the Dwarves, you joined the ranks of all those who wished to fight for them. Unlike us, you did not fear the reconciliation from your king. When you rushed to defend them as Thranduil turned his back, we came to fight with you. We saw Legolas carry you off and knew that we could do nothing for you if we wished to save the dwarves, so we did what we had to."_

I smiled as tears of joy fell down my face. _"Do not apologize," _I told him. I knew in my heart that if they had taken me, I might have avoided torture, but I pushed the dark thought aside. _"I am glad you stayed. All of you!" _I turned to face the rest of the soldiers that had followed me to exile. I bowed to them. _"I owe you much."_

_ "My lady," _a she-elf with raven-black hair said, stepping forward. _"You owe us nothing."_

_"You were exiled because of me," _I said, the knowledge weighing heavily on my mind. My shoulders sagged. _"It's my fault."_

_ "Aeyera," _Aicanar said gently. _"Our choices remain our own, and we would not change them. We are happy here. Do not let your heart be troubled on our account, my friend."_

Tears filled my eyes, and I nodded, wrapping my arms around him once again. _"Now come, my Lady," _the raven-haired woman said lightly, taking my hand. _"There are many who want nothing more than to meet you!"_

The night was full of laughter and light, with new friends and old. I saw so many faces I had nearly forgotten, and my heart was glad. We danced and sang and spoke from dusk until dawn.

When the sun rose once again, all but Aicanar and Gwenithil, the raven-haired elf, departed. Their families had travelled here with them long ago, and my heart was both gladdened and saddened that this was their home now and not the Greenwood.

The two walked with me back to my room, and it was then that I noticed the matching bands on their fingers. My eyes widened as a grin spread across my face. _"You are wed?" _I asked.

My old friend smiled at the new, who wrapped her slender, white arms around his. _"Yes." _He bowed. _"We take our leave, my Lady. I hope to meet again soon."_ With another smile, the pair left, and I entered my room once more.

Barely had I closed the door than a knock sounded on it. I frowned and opened the door to reveal the Grey Wizard. He smiled down at me, although his eyes were wary and guarded. "My lady, the council is about to meet. If you would gather your things and leave them with the dwarves, it would have you much time later. I will wait here."

I nodded, confused, and shut the door. Rushing around quickly, I changed into a different gown but tugged my boots and leggings on under it. I began throwing different supplies into a pack by the door. Several tunics and leggings, my cloak, a canteen and lembas, a blanket, medicine and bandages for my wounds, and my armor were packed quickly and precisely. One of the most horrible things about what had happened to me was that I was unable to ever have children. The only good thing that came from that was that I did not have to worry with the… messy side of my time of the month. My weapons were already in the care of Kili and Fili.

I donned the pack and threw open the door. The wizard nodded, gave me a nearly imperceptible wink, and led me to the dwarves' quarters. Dodging questions, I handed over my pack to Fili and Kili, who still guarded my weapons, and told them to bring it with them should I be unable to depart at the same time as they. Without giving any answers, I darted out the door and joined Gandalf as we hurried towards the pavilion the council was meeting. Elrond appeared beside us as we walked, and he and Gandalf began to speak quietly as we walked. Rivendell was not yet awake, and the sun was just peaking over the horizon as we entered.

Gandalf raised his voice angrily. "With or without our help, these dwarves will march on the mountain. They are determined to reclaim their homeland. I do not believe Thorin Oakenshield feels that he's answerable to anyone. Nor for that matter am I! Or the princess," he added as an afterthought.

I raised my eyebrows in surprise and confirmation as Elrond glanced to me, face grave. Elrond turned back to Gandalf. "It is not me you must answer to."

I froze, then turned and saw a tall, beautiful elf standing framed against the rising sun. She slowly turned around to face us, her face as serene as her movements were graceful. "Lady Galadriel," Gandalf addressed her, awestruck.

"Mithrandir." She smiled gently, eyes glittering. "It has been a long time."

"_Age may have changed me," _Gandalf said in Elvish, voice swelling with an emotion I could not identify. _"But not so the Lady of Lorien_." Galadriel smiled almost bashfully, eyes crinkling. "I had no idea Lord Elrond had sent for you."

A voice sounded out of the darkness, making my skin crawl. "He didn't. I did." I took a deep breath and turned to see Saruman the White.

Gandalf bowed to him. I did not move. "Saruman."

"You've been busy of late, my friend." The wizard's smile did not reach his eyes, which remained cold and calculation, like a serpent's. We took our seats. The wizards and I sat at the table, Galadriel remained where she stood, and Elrond paced back and forth worriedly.

"Tell me, Gandalf, did you think these plans and schemes of yours would go unnoticed?" Saruman asked venomously. I narrowed my eyes at the White Wizard almost unperceptively, and then glanced over at the Lady, who already watched me. I had the sense that another presence was invading my mind, and I focused my thoughts to two distinct points. The Lady's eyes widened a fraction, and she nodded slightly.

"Unnoticed? No, I'm simply doing what I feel to be right," Gandalf replied, his tone biting. I had the sudden realization that I sat before two of the Maiar, and I suddenly wished nothing more than to leave.

"The dragon has long been on your mind," Galadriel said, reading his thoughts. So she was the one invading my mind.

"This is true, my lady," Gandalf relented, turning to her. "Smaug owes allegiance to no one. But if he should side with the enemy, a dragon could be used to terrible effect."

Saruman scoffed, and I felt my dislike for the wizard growing stronger. "What enemy? Gandalf, the enemy is defeated. Sauron is vanquished. He can never regain his full strength."

Elrond agreed, turning to the wizards. "Gandalf, for four hundred years, we have lived in peace. A hard-won, watchful peace."

Gandalf leaned forward, and I leaned back. "Are we? Are we at peace? Trolls have come down from the mountains. They are raiding villages, destroying farms. Orcs have attacked us on the road."

Elrond spread his arms, clearly exasperated. "Hardly a prelude to war."

Saruman took the floor again, waving his hands around. "Always you must meddle, looking for trouble where none exists."

Galadriel turned sharply, glaring at the wizard. To my surprise, he fell silent. "Let him speak."

"There is something at work beyond the evil of Smaug, something far more powerful. We can remain blind, but it will not be ignoring us, that I can promise you. A sickness lies over the Greenwood. The woodsmen living there now call it 'Mirkwood.' They say…" Gandalf trailed off, unsure of how to continue. I stood sharply and strode to the edge of the pavilion, crossing my arms over my chest as my scars began to ache.  
Saruman interrupted, mocking him. "Well, don't stop now. Tell us about the woodsmen's sayings!"

I turned around and faced the wizard myself, fury causing my hands to shake. I kept my hands folded behind my back to conceal them. "They speak of a Necromancer living in Dol Guldur, a sorcerer who can summon the dead."

Saruman did not bother mentioning that I had spoken out of turn, but contradicted me instead. "That's absurd. No such power exists in the world." _Anymore, _I thought bitterly. The lady started in surprise, as I had allowed her to read into my memories as I listened to the White Wizard spew his rehearsed propaganda. "This… _Necromancer_ is nothing more than a mortal man. A conjurer dabbling in black magic."

Gandalf continued where he left off. "And so I thought too. But, Radagast has—"

Saruman turned on the Grey Wizard in disgust. "Radagast? Do not speak to me about Radagast the Brown. He is a foolish fellow."

Gandalf smiled, though I had the sense that the kind wizard wished nothing more that to smack his fellow Maia over the head with his staff. "Well, he's odd, I grant you. He lives a solitary life."

Saruman waved Gandalf's comment away. "It's not that. It's his excessive consumption of mushrooms. They've addled his brains and yellowed his teeth. I warned him, it is unbecoming of the Istari to be wandering the woods…"

I rolled my eyes, ignoring Saruman's glare, and looked to Gandalf, who lifted the package from Radagast, which he had in his lap, and placed it on the table. It let out a dull thud.

The others drew closer to it. I backed away as icy fear gripped my heart. I grasped the column at the edge of the pavilion as sweat beaded on my face despite the cool air. "What is that?" Elrond asked.

Galadriel glared at it, eyes bright with an inner fire. "A relic of Mordor."

Elrond, who was reaching out to unwrap the package, drew his hand back suddenly. Bracing himself, he then reached for it again and opened it, revealing the short sword Radagast had taken from the spirit in Dol Guldur. The White Council members looked upon it in shock.

"A Morgul blade," Elrond said, unable to take his eyes from it. My knees shook, and I leaned against the pillar as my legs gave out. My eyesight grew fuzzy, and I shook my head to clear it.

Galadriel spoke, her lovely voice filled with horror. Her words echoed with memory. "Made for the Witch-King of Angmar, and buried with him. When Angmar fell, men of the North took his body and all that he possessed and sealed in the High-Fells of Rhudaur. Deep within the rock they buried them, in a tomb so dark it would never come to light."

Elrond shook his head in denial. "This is not possible. A powerful spells lies upon those tombs; they cannot be opened."

Saruman turned to Gandalf. "What proof do we have this weapon came from Angmar's grave?"

Gandalf looked down, but I could see his fist clench even as his tone remained humble. My own hands shook so badly that I would have been completely unable to hold any sort of weapon in a fight. "I have none."

Saruman sat up straighter, haughty. "Because there is none. Let us examine what we know. A single Orc pack has dared to cross the Bruinen. A dagger from a bygone age has been found. And a human sorcerer, who calls himself the Necromancer, has taken up residence in the ruined fortress. Not so very much, after all. The question of this dwarvish company, however, troubles me deeply. I'm not convinced, Gandalf; I do not feel I can condone such a quest. If they'd come to _me_, I might have spared them..." Saruman's voice faded away as Galadriel again focused on my mind. For the first time, I heard her words in my head, calming my troubled thoughts.

_"They are leaving."_

_"Aye, my Lady," _I replied, looking up at her.

An amused smile wormed its way onto her face. _"You knew." _

I nodded. A step was heard, and we all turned around; Lindir came up and bowed. "My Lord Elrond; the dwarves, they're gone."

Galadriel's eyes flitted to mine once more. _"Go. Join them. Mithrandir will come soon."_

I bowed my head, eager to leave. _"Yes, my Lady."_ I stood and left the pavilion, heading for the Company, headed straight for the Misty Mountains.


	13. Chapter 13

I stopped at my room and tore off the gown I had been wearing, throwing it atop the nearest chair. I rushed around, simultaneously braiding my hair and finding my tunic, corset, undergarments, and hooded cloak. I pulled it all on as quickly as possible while cursing whomever it was who decided that females must wear such infernal things such as corsets. At that moment, Gwenithil appeared in my doorway, a sad smile on her face.

_"You would leave without saying goodbye?" _she asked softly, striding over and tightening and tying my corset, then helping me with my tunic, being as gentle as possible without jarring my wounds. She braided strands of my hair together quickly with expert fingers, tying in green and gold beads and small clasps to hold the pieces back.

_"I must go, Gwenithil," _I told her gently, pinning my cloak at my neck and leading her out the door. _"I must complete the task I took on at the mountain. You know this."_

She nodded, but said nothing as we hurried along. We reached the bridge leading out of Rivendell, and we embraced as old friends, sorrow weighing on our hearts. Somehow I knew I would not see her or Aicanar again. _"Take care of Aicanar," _I murmured. _"Tell him goodbye for me?"_

She smiled, glancing at the ring on her finger. _"I will." _She bent down and kissed my forehead, blessing me. _"Be safe, Celebhiril," _she whispered. I nodded, tears stinging my eyes, and began to run.

By the time I caught up to the dwarves, it was midmorning. The dwarves were hiking along the path away from Rivendell, staying as close to the stone face as possible to avoid being seen. As I approached, I could hear several of the dwarves whispering to each other, questioning my absence. Thorin called out orders as loudly as he dared, glancing towards the city every now and again as if expecting arrows to come flying out at any second. "Be on your guard: we're about to step over the edge of the Wild. Balin, you know these paths; lead on."

Bilbo turned around and looked back at Rivendell longingly, and he smiled in delight upon catching sight of me. "Miss Aeyera! I was afraid you weren't going to catch up in time!"

I laughed and hugged him gently. "I would never leave you alone," I grinned, eyes sparkling even as my heart ached at the thought of how I had left one of my oldest friends without saying goodbye. Even now I wanted to rush back, and stay with my people, and be _happy_, but I had made a promise. I could not desert them now. I laughed, doing my best to seem high-spirited. "Especially not without saying goodbye."

Thorin glanced back at me, expression unreadable. "Master Baggins, Lady Elf, I suggest that you both keep up!"

Fili and Kili fell back to speak to me as Bilbo rushed on ahead. Both brothers wore identical grins, and their eyes sparkled with mischief. Fili handed me my pack; Kili, my weapons.

"Welcome back to the land of the living, Princess," Fili said, clapping my back and pulling me into a short embrace. "It's been quite lonely without your presence." Leaning towards me, he whispered, "And Kili hasn't been quite the same without you here."

My cheeks burned, and I laughed uneasily, glancing at the younger prince. His face was as red as mine felt, and he turned his face away, hiding behind his hair.

"It has been quite dull without you both, _melloneamin_," I said, placing my hands on their shoulders. "I hope not to become separated from you in such a manner again."

"Do you know the land around here?" Kili asked, effectively changing the subject. "Balin thinks he remembers how to reach the mountains, but—"

"Aye. I travelled these lands for more years than I care to recall." I smiled, remembering the time spent with the rangers. "I could walk them blind if need be." A particular instance involving a human sorcerer surfaced, and I winced. "I have, actually."

The brothers looked at me with newfound interest. "Blind?"

Thus I recounted the story of a certain mortal necromancer, one who specialized in light and darkness. He had attacked the Dúnedain and I when we drew too close to his home. I had been in front, and had been hit with the first blast of magic. My sight had been stolen from me, and I had remained blind until the rangers had made it to Imladris, where Gandalf had been at the time. Lord Elrond had been elsewhere, but I owed the Grey Wizard my sight.

As I spoke, the morning wore on, and soon we were on the edge of a great wood, and the sun was directly overhead. We halted to eat, and the princes and I sat apart from the others, talking softly so as to avoid attention.

"See, you've always got to keep at least three knives hidden on your person at all times," Fili told me, chewing a hunk of bread. He swallowed and took a swig of water, then passed the water skin to Kili. "Otherwise you could be disarmed easily and have no way to defend yourself."

"I already have long knives, a sword, and a bow," I told him. "Why would I need extra steel to weigh me down?"

He winced as if recalling a painfully embarrassing memory but did not answer, and Kili began laughing uproariously, slapping his knee. His mouth was full, so he couldn't speak, and he only stopped laughing when he began to choke on the bread he had been trying to chew. I patted his back as he attempted to regain his composure, trying to cough up whatever piece of bread had gotten lodged in his throat. Finally a small piece of mushy bread shot out of his mouth and landed on the toe of Fili's boot. The elder brother made a face and flicked it off as Kili guzzled down water, panting.

"So Fili," I began cheerily. "It would be a pity to waste such a lovely introduction; why don't you go ahead and share whatever story your brother finds so amusing?"

The look Fili gave his brother could have fried an egg. He cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Well…" He cleared his throat. "Here's the thing, it was so long ago, and my memory isn't what it used to be, and—"

"He was disarmed by a girl!" Kili blurted, still choking back little coughs.

"It was _not _a fair fight!" Fili yelled back, face red with embarrassment and anger. Several members of the company chuckled, and Fili glared at the ground darkly.

"So you do remember, then?" I supplied helpfully.

He sighed. "It was nearly forty years ago," he began. "Kee and I were in the marketplace—" Kili opened his mouth to interrupt, and Fili shot him down. "If I'm to tell this story, brother, I tell it my way!" Kili shut his mouth, making a face at me as soon as his brother turned away. I stifled a giggle as Fili continued, clearing his throat. "Anyways, I was a much younger dwarf."

"Keeping in mind that we're barely of age _now_," Kili whispered. I covered my mouth, doing my best to keep a stoic expression.

"At the time, I was under the… misinformed impression that female dwarves were less…ahem, sturdy, than male dwarves." He winced again, and I nodded, realizing where this story was heading. "So Kili and I were in the market, and I saw the daughter of one of Mother's friends walking around in her sparring clothes. Well, having never trained with a female, I thought that then would be an opportune time, so I walked up to her and challenged her to a duel." He shuddered, and I laughed openly, throwing back my head. Balin and Dwalin came over and sat near us, listening and chuckling now and again. "Well, her mother didn't like that very much, and she told me off for even suggesting that her sweet little daughter would fight someone like me."

I frowned and raised one eyebrow. "Someone like you?" I repeated.

Fili grinned. "Aye. Granted, I don't think she knew I was the crown prince. I was so covered with dirt from training that she probably thought I was some ruffian. She probably would have handed her daughter a sword and made her fight had she known who I was."

Balin chuckled. "I don't doubt that, lad."

"So I went away, all rejected, when Kili starts tugging on my sleeve. I turn around to see what he wants, and I see Kída running up to me. She… didn't look happy."

"And Kída is the Dwarrowdam you challenged?" I clarified.

He nodded, a somewhat wistful expression on his face. "Aye. So she runs over, gold hair all over the place, and tells me that she accepts. So we head over to the training area at the palace, and each pick out our normal weapons. I didn't see what she picked up, see. I choose smaller twin swords, and I glimpse her grabbing a sword as well. So anyway, we start fighting. Kili's watching from the stands, and I'm expecting the fight will last maybe a minute or so. Well the fight goes on for at least ten before I finally disarm her. Kili starts cheering, and I turn around to look at him, when suddenly I feel this cold blade at my neck. I turn around, and I see Kída holding a knife to my throat, grinning like she just became queen of Erebor. Kili stops laughing and gets real quiet; I think he was afraid she was going to gut me. I'll admit I was afraid of that too, for a moment. I immediately go and disarm her, but this just makes her mad. And it doesn't do me any good; because she had Mahal knows how many daggers hidden away in her clothes. Eventually she disarms me, and about that time Dwalin comes in."

He shook his head as the burly warrior roared with laughter, slapping his knee. "Aye, I come in and see wee Kili in the stands gaping like a fish at his big brother, who's standing in the middle of the ring, covered with dirt and just staring daggers at the lass who's holding a knife to his chest."

"She didn't get in trouble, did she?" I couldn't help but ask.

Fili grinned. "Of course not. Dwalin asked what was going on, and by the time the two of us had finished arguing about the details, he was laughing so hard at me that the entire mountain seemed to shake. Kída got angry that I had tried to blame her and quite literally dumped a barrel of water on my head. That would've been punishment enough, but about then her mother and mine come in, having heard Dwalin's laughing. They see Kída and I rolling around in the mud, yelling at each other, and Dwalin doubled over not doing anything but laughing!"

"Aye, I recall that your mother gave you a fine scolding then," Balin chuckled. "But at least some good came out of all that."

"Aye," Kili sang, picking a flower and shoving it in his brother's hair. "Kída and my brother are betrothed now!" Fili, blushing red to the roots of his hair, took a swipe at his brother, who danced out of reach. He leapt up and chased him around, while the younger sang an absurd song about his brother and Kída sitting in a tree and… kissing? I blushed as well, laughing.

Kili finally tripped over a tree root and went down, managing to throw up his arms to fend off his brother, who immediately tackled him. Howling with glee, I leapt up and tried to pull Fili off, but they both turned on me, matching grins on both their faces. I squealed and bolted, but they both tackled me, bringing me down. We rolled around, pinning one another and shrieking with delight. The brothers discovered that I was ticklish and took advantage of that, much to the amusement of the company, most of whom had come to accept me as one of their own.

The rest of the company continued laughing at our antics until Thorin strode up, glaring at us all. "Silence, all of you!" he bellowed. Fili, Kili, and I froze. The rest of the company fell silent. Several birds nearby took flight, startled by his roar of anger. "The mountains and foothills are crawling with orcs! We leave now. Your three—" he pointed at his nephews and I. "Have midnight watch the next two nights."

As soon as he turned around, the three of us scowled at his back, standing and brushing the dust off of one another. We packed up our things quickly and headed on, following Balin and Thorin further into the foothills of the Misty Mountains.

"How are your ribs, Princess?" Fili asked. He and his brother stood to my right and left, asking questions every now and again.

I gingerly touched the spot where my chest was wrapped up, testing out the area around it. It ached a bit, as was the norm, but otherwise was fine, and I told them so. Both nodded, relieved. "What's Kída like?" I asked, looking up to stare at the gorgeous blue sky. Wispy clouds floated across it, and birds would dart this way and that, chirping their songs to one another. Of course _they _were happy: _they _didn't have midnight watch.

A longing, dreamy expression rested on his face, and his blue eyes seemed to mist over as a happy smile grey on his face. I laughed softly, my heart aching. How I longed to be loved like Kída so obviously was. "She… is a remarkable lass," he said softly. "She's a warrior, as she proved when we were young. She has the biggest heart…" he sighed, heartsick. "Sometimes I wonder what I ever did to deserve her. She has long gold hair and a beautiful beard—"

I tilted my head, puzzled. "She has a beard?"

Kili smiled. "Aye, Princess. All dwarves have beards, but Dwarrowdams have sparser beards than we do."

I nodded in understanding, and Fili continued. "And she has the largest blue eyes…" he continued on in this vein for a surprisingly long time, and eventually started an argument with Gloin over whose love had a more magnificent beard.

Kili sighed, watching his brother fondly. "They'll keep this up till we set up camp," he informed me, grinning. "But they'll break it off in time for supper."

My stomach twisted into knots for some reason I could not name, and I glanced at the dark haired prince from under my eyelashes. "So, Fili is betrothed…" I began casually, weaving together several flowers I had plucked from beside our path. A pattern quickly emerged, and I stayed silent for several seconds, braiding the stems together in an intricate design. "Are you as well?"

His smile fell, and I could sense the wall that went up around him. His features hardened, eyes darkening. I stepped away, startled by the change in his demeanor. I bit my lip, unsure as to what had just happened. "Kili?"

Without answered, he sped up, moving to walk with Ori several paces away. I stared after him, confused and hurt by his change in demeanor towards me, but did not move to go after him. I stayed in the back of the group for the rest of the day, only pausing to shoot a couple rabbits that neared the path.

Bombur was very pleased with the meat for that night's meal, seeing as how we had none but salted meat left from our stay in Imladris. Kili avoided me, staying near to Fili and Gloin who, true to Kili's word, had ceased their bickering as supper drew near. We placed most of our bedrolls against a large outcropping of rock so as to have our backs protected whilst we slept. I perched in a small hollow several yards in the air while the others ate, not feeling up for eating at the moment.

By the time everyone had finished eating and had packed up the bowls again, night had fallen. I remained where I was, thoroughly enjoying Thorin's irritated growls as he searched the clearing for me. Bilbo glanced up at me and grinned, then looked back down at his pipe again. I leaned against the stone, one leg tucked under me while the other bent down, allowing a resting place for my forearm. My bow rested across my knees, and I leaned my head back, enjoying the cool wind that cooled my face. My hood was drawn, effectively concealing my whereabouts from the company. The stars were beginning to shine, and the crescent moon turned the clouds silver. Owls began to call softly to one another, and the thrilling howl of a lone wolf floated on the wind.

By now, most of the company was nervous, searching the shadows for me. I made to get up but stopped when Thorin's bark of a voice reached my ears.

"When was the last time anyone saw her?" he roared, forgetting his rule to be silent whilst traveling near the mountains. The company looked around, worried about what would happen once Thorin found me.

Bombur spoke up, glancing nervously at his brother as he did so. "I last saw her a bit before supper, she gave me a couple rabbits she had shot for the stew."

I was quite certain that had Thorin's glare been leveled at me, I would have been burned to ashes. "Where. Did. She. Go. Next?" He ground out, enunciating each word.

"I-I don't know," poor Bombur stuttered.

Bofur stood and moved to shield his brother from Thorin's gaze. "No one's seen her, Thorin," he said clearly, keeping eye contact with the furious king.

Thorin muttered something incoherently and turned, storming away and growling under his breath. "Where're you going?" Fili called, removing his pipe from his lips. Kili glanced up at his Uncle, then back at the ground, brow furrowing.

Thorin stopped and turned to face his nephew. "I'm going to find that infernal elfling and teach her a lesson," he spat. He was shaking with anger, and I narrowed my eyes at him, sheathing my bow. Rage began to burn in my heart.

"Uncle—"

"No!" he yelled. The whole company jumped, and Bilbo dropped his pipe. "You've all gone soft! She's an elf, don't you remember? She and her people left us to die! She claimed to want to help us and then vanishes as soon as she's assigned a tough watch. Well once I find her, we'll see how well a fighter she really is."

I'd had enough. Thorin stood almost directly in front of the rock, and so I stood, braced myself, and jumped. I fell for only a couple seconds before my heels hit the dirt, and I rolled, leaping to my feet. I stood an arm's length away, breathing heavily. "Stop looking," I growled, eyes smoldering like the fury in my heart. "Here I am."

He blinked, momentarily surprised, then his eyes hardened. "You did not answer when I asked," he growled.

I stood my ground, anger coursing through my veins. "Am I a dog, to answer to your beck and call?" I retorted. I drew my sword with a flourish, tossing my cloak away. "If you wish to test my skill, go ahead. I am not defenseless this time."

He stared at me for a long time, and then dropped his gaze. He turned away, heading towards Dwalin at the edge of the fire. "Do not forget your watch."

I stood where he left me as he and Dwalin drew away to speak quietly. I was shocked at his change in demeanor. After a few moments, the company began to move about again, preparing for bed. Bilbo timidly made his way towards me, picking his way around the members of the company. Kili met my gaze for a quick moment before turning away and lying down. I sighed.

"You can put away your sword," Bilbo told me softly, gesturing towards the weapon still held in my white-knuckled fist. I released my grip and let it fall, wincing at the clang of the hilt and pommel hitting the ground. Fili glanced between his brother and I questioningly, and I shrugged helplessly. Bilbo reached down and lifted up part of the sword, which was as long as he was tall. He tugged on my sleeve. "Miss Aeyera?"

I blinked and returned to myself. "Oh, Bilbo. Thank you." I smiled kindly at him and returned my sword to its sheath.

"Are you alright?" he asked, scrunching his nose quickly. "You've seemed… agitated lately."

I sighed. "I'm sorry Bilbo. I've just been distracted lately."

"Because of Kili?" Bilbo questioned. I blinked, taken aback by his scrutiny. The hobbit backtracked quickly. "I don't mean to suggest that you… carry a torch for him," he spoke quickly. "But I noticed that you seemed distant today, and—"

My face flushed and my eyes grew huge. I covered the hobbit's mouth and pulled him over to sit beside the fire, far away from the others. "Bilbo, my dear hobbit, do not speak that way," I cautioned him. "Kili and I are friends only, nothing more." I glanced around nervously and was relieved to see that no one seemed to have heard our conversation. "We are friends, Bilbo," I whispered, not understanding the way my heart ached. I smiled softly at him, nudging him towards his bedroll. "Go to sleep, Master Baggins," I told him gently. "Enjoy your rest."

He smiled, chuckling softly, before rising and departing to rest. I remained by the fire, staring into the embers and losing myself in my dreams and thoughts. It seemed only a few minutes later that a hand was shaking my shoulder. I started and looked up into the eyes of the dwarf king, who was watching me with a curious expression. I stood immediately, feeling threatened.

"Your watch is starting," he said softly. Fili and Kili already were seated on the ground across from me, yawning and bleary eyed. "Fetch Ori and Nori when your watch ends."

He turned and strode away into the shadows, and I stared after him until he was gone before turning back to the brothers. I scooted over until I sat beside Fili, resting my bow across my knees as I stared off into the woods. Kili leaned against his brother, eyes drooping shut. After only a few minutes, his breathing evened out, and his face became peaceful. Fili went to move him, but I reached over and place my hand on his arm.  
"Let him sleep," I said softly. "I don't sleep anyway, let him rest."

Fili nodded and shifted back to face the fire, holding out his hands to warm them. I pulled my cloak more tightly around my shoulders. "Fili?" I asked softly.

He glanced over at me. "Hm?"

I bit my lip, twisting my brother's ring around my finger. "May I ask you something?"

He nodded. "Of course, Princess."

I took a deep breath. "I asked Kili earlier—after you told me about Kída—if, since you were betrothed, if he…" The conversation became much more stressed, and I shifted, rubbing the leather grip on my bow. "If he was as well." Fili's features hardened. "I just assumed since you are so close in age, and since you both are princes, and since he is obviously an attractive dwarf, that—"

Fili cut me off, turning and staring at me with wide blue eyes. The firelight reflected off them, turning them gold, and in that moment he resembled a lion, regal and strong. It was easy to see that he was born to be a king. "What did you say?" he asked incredulously.

I opened and shut my mouth several times before the ability to form words reached me again. "I-I just…" I swallowed, feeling my cheeks heat up. "You heard me," I answered finally, my voice soft and shy. "I told you the truth."

He ran his hand through his hair. "I heard you," he said quietly, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. "I just can't believe it."

I was so confused. My mind whirled. Had I done something wrong? "What?" I questioned, urging him to give me an answer.

"My brother…" Fili sighed and looked over at him to make sure he was still asleep. He was. "He…" he fixed me suddenly with such a terrible glare that I nearly leapt away. Indeed I nearly struck him with my bow. "If you repeat this, _Princess_," he growled, emphasizing my false title. "Or if you ever tell my brother we had this conversation, you will regret it." I nodded, mouth dry. He gave me one last look and then began speaking again, his voice growing soft. "Because of his beard, he is not considered attractive to many dwarrowdams." I frowned, utterly confused. Because of his _beard?_ "So it is… more than possible that he took your question as an insult."

I stared at him, baffled. "I-I don't understand," I stammered. "I wasn't—I would never—"

He held up a hand to stop my rambling, and I grew quiet. "Your intentions at the time mean nothing."

"My intentions mean everything!"

"Princess, will you let me speak?" He bit out, voice low so as to avoid waking his brother. I nodded tersely. "I doubt you meant to harm him, but he obviously took your question the wrong way. Elves are clean shaven, yes?"

I tilted my head, confused by the question. "I suppose? We do not grow facial hair the way the other races do," I explained. "Hobbits follow in this fashion as well."

He nodded, expression pained. "When we were much younger," he sighed, closing his eyes. "Kili was bullied by the other dwarflings. They called him an elf, mocking him constantly because of his beard. Or lack of, thereof."

"What?" I stood up, driven by anger, and paced back and forth before the fire, suddenly wide-awake. "How could they—"

"Can you not think of a way that your own race looks down upon others of their own kind?" he asked harshly.

I fixed him with a sharp glare, tightening my grip on my bow. "I'm sure I could think of something," I growled. I shifted back on my ankle, and it popped loudly, causing both of us to jump.

He looked momentarily guilty, recalling my banishment. "I am sorry, Princess. I was not thinking."

"Hm—? Gm—huh," Kili awoke and yawned, lifting his head. His bleary brown eyes looked around, settling on me. I froze, staring at him, and after a moment the innocent, content look he bore vanished, replaced by an angry, guarded one. My shoulders slumped as he turned away, and Fili glanced between us once more before searching the treeline for danger.

-o-

The rest of our watch passed in the same vein; Kili ignoring me, and Fili making forced conversation between us. It was a relief when the time came for our watch to end. We awoke two of the Ri brothers and left to sleep, the brothers to their rolls, and me to my hollow in the stone. _It was ironic_, I mused now, _that the elf preferred the stone while the dwarves preferred the trees._

It was a bit after midday now, and I walked with Fili, who was teaching me of the importance of having knives on hand at all times. We had mutually decided to leave the previous night's conversation for a later date; today our speech was light and our smiles came easily. We had entered the mountains and were making our way up one of the unnamed peaks. Trees grew plentifully still, though game was not as fruitful. Fili was a pleasure to be around; he seemed to radiate light wherever he went. He gave several other examples besides his duel with Kída, and ended by giving two of his throwing knives to me. He pulled them out of a couple of the numerous pockets of his coat, and laughed loudly when I tried to refuse, earning a sharp look from his uncle, which he ignored.

"I have more knives hidden in here than you know, Princess. Two won't make a dent. Besides," he added with a wink. "Once we find another troll hoard I'm sure you can find your own. Until then, keep them."

I chuckled and accepted them, placing one in my boot and the other in my belt. "Thank you," I told him, grinning. "Can you teach me to throw?"

He turned to me in surprise. "You can't throw?" he asked incredulously.

I blushed and looked down at my feet. "Well… no, I didn't. I guess I never really had the chance to learn."

He grinned, throwing an arm around my shoulders. "Don't worry, then, Princess," he told me happily. "I'll have you throwing knives in no time."

"Just make sure you don't get stabbed in the back," Kili muttered. I jumped. I hadn't realized he was behind me until he spoke, and his words stung, weighing heavily on my heart.

I fell silent, and Fili left my side to speak with his brother. He never came back, and I spoke with Balin about Erebor, which he remembered well, having lived there long before I was even born. He told me stories of its magnificent halls, and of the royal family. He told me of Thorin and Frerin and Dís, and how close they were as dwarflings and young dwarves. My heart broke as he recounted the tale of the Battle of Azanulbizar, where Thorin lost his brother, father, and grandfather.

"Where were you during the battle, lass?" the kind old dwarf asked.

I looked up into his wise eyes and found that I could speak. "I was being healed by the Dúnedain, the rangers of the north. They found me when I was broken, and I travelled with them for a century until a decade ago, when our paths led away from one another. Now I travel with you."

"What were you being healed from?"

"We will rest here for the night!"

I looked up in surprise, thankful for the interruption. The sun was low in the west, and its golden light warmed my skin. The dwarves began circling up, dropping their packs to the ground as Gloin knelt down, already preparing a fire. Dinner was stew, made from squirrels Kili had picked off the path that day. I ate nothing but lembas, and no one asked me to share. I know they would not eat of it even if I asked. I know they hated hardtack in general, they would not think highly of the elvish waybread.

The sun had not yet set, but twilight was settling over the world when Fili came up to me and hauled me to my feet. "Time for practice," he announced, dragging me several yards away. My knives remained where I had left them, and I pulled the one in my boot out and into my hand as he began setting up large pinecones for targets, placing them in a line atop a boulder that stood as high as my shoulders.

"Alright," he began, pulling me back so that I stood ten paces from the rock. "First, take aim. No!" I jumped, and he took the knife from my hand. "This is the first lesson, and there are company members only a few steps away. No knives until you have your form right."

I flushed and followed his lead, stepping forward and shifting my weight from my non-dominant to dominant foot and swinging my arm around my head in a slow arc, flicking my wrist as I did so. Fili was a patient teacher, I had to give him that. He must have adjusted my form two dozen times before he was pleased with it. When he was satisfied, he handed me a fist-sized rock and told me to hit the center pinecone. I took a deep breath, aimed, and let it go. It flew over the boulder, hitting the bush behind it.

I frowned as Fili coughed. "Alright then," he said. "Another."

I tried again and was met with as much success as the first time. This rock didn't make it past the boulder. I felt like stamping my feet in frustration, and I tossed the newest rock from one hand to the other, very irritated.

"Here, watch me," Fili suggested, taking the rock from my hand.

I moved out of the way and watched, wide eyed, as he turned and threw the rock with deadly accuracy, taking out the pinecone and its brethren. He moved so quickly that even my eyes barely caught his movements, and he smiled at my befuddled expression as I glared at the boulder. He handed me another.

"One more time." He pointed to a large one sitting next to the large gap his own rock had created. "Knock it down."

Without thinking about my movements, I twisted and hurled the stone as hard as I could, watching as it flew straight for the pinecone—and shattered as it hit the boulder. I let out a frustrated shout and kicked the nearest tree, ignoring Fili's amused smile as I began ranting in my natural language.

_"Nonsensical rock! Why couldn't it have struck the pinecone? I would be able to sleep in peace tonight, but NO! Now I'll be up all night working on my aim!"_

After nearly a minute, Fili's calm voice broke through my rant and brought me back to the common tongue. "Try again," he said firmly. "One more time." This time he handed me the knife. I stared down at it, then back at him. "I'm sure," he assured me. "You won't miss."

I turned to face the target. My anger had been let out, but sadness remained. I recalled the look of anger Kili had given me; the way he had shut himself out from me. Unbidden, a tear formed and fell from my eye, dripping down my cheek. I held the handle of the knife loosely in my hand and allowed the rest of the world to fall away. I imagined the blade of the knife sinking into the pinecone an instant before it shattered, and in that moment I reared back and threw.

The knife sailed end over end and hit the pinecone head on, scattering the needles in all directions. I stood frozen for a moment, staring blankly at the spot where the pinecone had stood. Something bloomed with warmth in my stomach, and I broke into a wide smile, laughing even as my eyes filled with tears. Fili clapped me on the shoulder, grinning, before fetching the knife.

We walked back together, discussing posture and aim, and he stopped me at the edge of the clearing, handing me the knife hilt-first. "I know you are hurting, Princess," he said, his voice low. My smile faded slightly. "But he is too. Just… try and speak to him. That's all."

I nodded, and he gave me a thin-lipped smile before heading into the clearing to join the rest of the company. I took a deep breath and followed. Bilbo looked up and smiled widely at me. He sat at Ori's elbow, watching him write and draw in his journal. I smiled back at him but crossed to speak to Kili instead. Bilbo gave me a knowing wink and went back to studying the pictures. I moved until I stood beside the young prince who sat beside the fire, staring absently into it. I knelt down until I sat directly beside him, my arm nearly brushing his.

"Kili?" I asked hesitantly, my voice soft and coaxing. I remember using a similar tone with the Dúnedain, when I stumbled upon a pair of abandoned fawns, frightened and alone. I coaxed them out of their hole and was able to heal the one who was injured, but it had taken a lot of persuasion. I felt the same way with Kili; he had the same pained, distrustful look in his eyes the fawns' had held. He eyed me warily but said nothing. "Can… May I speak with you?" I managed. My heart beat rapidly in my ears. Once, when travelling near the southern border of Gondor, I had happened upon a small bird with wings that beat so quickly they were but a blur, and which made a strange humming noise when it flew. I had christened it a hummingbird, and what had astounded me most was how quickly its heart beat. One had landed on my outstretched finger, and its chest had shivered with the constant impact of its tiny heart against it. My heart beat at the same speed, perhaps faster. My stomach twisted with apprehension.

He turned to face me, his face openly distrusting, nothing like the kind dwarf I had grown so close to the last few weeks. The look in his eyes was so fierce that I fought the urge to scamper away like a frightened rabbit. "What could you possibly have to say?" he bit out, dark eyes narrowed.

I blinked, stung, but continued, fighting valiantly to keep my voice steady. "I feel as though you misunderstood my intentions the other day," I admitted, crossing my arms over my knees. He watched me silently. "I merely thought…" I cleared my throat and tried a different tact. "When I came of age, my father immediately went searching for someone to marry me off to. He never had the chance, thank the Valar," I muttered. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Kili turn and gaze at me questioningly, and I saw some of the harsh wall around him crumble. "But sometimes I wonder if it would have been better to have been married off." I rolled my shoulder, and Kili winced as it popped loudly. "Even to someone I did not love." I sighed and rubbed my eyes with my palms.

"Perhaps," Kili said hesitantly, "But you would not be here if you had."

I smiled weakly at him. "I suppose not." I sat back and crossed my legs under me. Beyond the fire I could see Bilbo's curious eyes peering over at me. "Although I doubt anyone would have wanted to marry me."

He frowned. "Why is that?"

"Kili, how old do I appear to be, in Dwarvish years?" I questioned.

He blinked, taken aback by the question, and searched my features, thinking. His lips moved as his eyes shifted back and forth across my face, and I was relieved to see no heat in his gaze. Finally he spoke, frowning slightly. "I would say… perhaps in your thirties? Maybe forty?"

I sighed. "The equivalent of a human teenager."

"Yes."

I sighed bitterly. "Elves reach maturity around fifty or one hundred, and we remain looking that age forever. This never happened for me. I aged differently, and though I might know why, I do not know why it affected me so."

"What is it?"

"My mother was half-elven," I replied softly. "Her mother was mortal."

"I have heard…" he hesitated. "I've heard that those who are half mortal can choose. Choose to live a mortal life or an immortal one. Is it true?"

"For some," I replied softly, wrapping my arms around my knees and pulling them up to my chest. "It depends on whom you love." I cleared my throat and turned back to the prince, blinking back tears. "But because I always looked different, no one loved me. No one wanted to love me the way I wanted to be loved. Which brings me back to my original statement." I grasped his hand, and he held mine as well, staring into my eyes. "Kili, I would never purposefully hurt you. I don't know why what I said hurt you, but I am sorry. Will you forgive me?"

He nodded. "Aye. I am sorry as well. I should have known you would not harm me."

Fili suddenly appeared above us, pushing us apart, and plopped down in between the two of us. "So glad to see that you made up. We should get some rest; midnight watch is coming quickly." Kili and I groaned and fell back, then moved to lie against a log, muttering about Thorin under our breath. The night air grew colder as we went higher up the mountain, and I regarded my apparel bitterly, wishing for the warm, thick cloth the dwarves always wore. I wrapped myself in my cloak and lay down near Kili, but barely had I settled, shivering, that Fili walked over, took hold of the blanket beneath me, and picked it and me up. I let out an indignant sputter as he deposited me on the ground directly beside his brother, settling on the other side of me.

"You're cold," he explained simply. I nodded, grateful, and we spread my own blanket out on the ground to lie upon, using theirs to cover the three of us. We settled close together, with Fili's arm under my head and Kili's hand resting in my hair. I rested with my back to Kili, facing his brother, my body warming quickly with the combined heat from their bodies. I had not noticed, but Dwarves seemed to have a greater body temperature that the other races. Elves in particular, I noticed wryly. I thought back to what I had told Kili about my mother and suddenly wondered if that was why I could sleep. Elves did not need sleep, of course, but men… I decided to try it, sure that nightmares would not reach me here. I relaxed and closed my eyes, wondering if I could choose a mortal life.

Balin woke us up at midnight, smiling fondly as he shook us awake. I blinked away sleep from my eyes, shocked that I had slept. As I sat up, however, a sharp pain jerked on my hair, and I gave a small yelp as my head was yanked over to the side. Kili let out a similar cry of pain, and it took me a moment to realize—to my utter mortification—that the braids, beads, and clasps in my hair had become tangled with Kili's. As he jerked his head again, I yelped as I was pulled over practically into his lap. I blushed and squirmed away as best as I could as Balin chuckled. Fili continued snoring, oblivious. I growled and kicked at him, jarring him out of his sleep. He sat up and looked around, bleary eyed for a moment, until he caught sight of his brother and I tied together. He burst out laughing, falling back onto his back.

"Fili, help your brother," Balin chided paternally. "I will keep watch until you are finished."

Fili composed himself and made Kili and I sit back to back, a feat I was amazed we accomplished so quickly. Fili knelt on his knees beside us, picking braids apart with skilled fingers. Every now and again, a braid or strand of hair would fall into my eyes, and I could hear the prince muttering irritably. "Why couldn't you have different colour hair?" he asked, sighing. "Your hair is practically the same."

"Sorry," we both muttered, wincing as he jerked on another knot. After what seemed like forever, we were separated. I rubbed my pricking scalp and watched as Balin headed off to sleep. Fili and Kili sat down on either side of me, and I braided my hair into a long, single braid, incorporating the smaller ones into one large one. We sat still that night, watching and listening. Nothing happened except that it began snowing lightly, and we woke Dwalin and Oin in the wee hours of the night before adding wood to the fire and going back to sleep. This time, though, I slept on top of my braid, still marveling that I was able to sleep at all.


	14. Chapter 14

I began to stir some hours later. It was pleasantly warm, and blankets were pulled up to my chin. One of them was wrapped around my waist like a belt. I could hear the other rangers murmuring quietly as they got ready for the new day. I couldn't remember where we were headed, but I knew we had a long walk ahead of us. Something cold brushed my cheek, and I wiped it away impatiently. I needed to sleep.

Sleep?

Suddenly the nightmares that had haunted me for a century came flooding back, and my eyes shot open as all the panic twisted in them stabbed at my mind. I made to sit upright, but was held down. I struggled blindly, then let out a shriek as what I now realized was snow went down the back of my tunic. The blanket round my waist disappeared. I didn't know where I was—_'was I with the rangers? No, Arathorn was dead— Oh, Eru, he's dead, he's dead, he's dead—'_

"Aeyera!"

I couldn't see anything but darkness. My mind was shrouded in it, and voices screamed, drowning out my own thoughts. _'Where am I? Not home, never home—'_

"What's wrong with her?!"

I curled into a ball, clutching my hands over my ears to block out the shrieks of agony and terror. They wouldn't go, why aren't they going away—_'In Dol Guldur? No, don't think about it, I can't be there, not again—'_

"Princess, wake up!"

_'Not at Beorn's either, then where—'_

"_WAKE UP!_"

Someone was shaking me. I was crying. My fingernails dug into my skin. My tears froze on my cheeks. My eyes were open and unseeing. Slowly, so slowly—my vision returned. Dwalin, Thorin, and Thorin's nephews knelt in the snow before me. Dwalin held my wrists in his hands, watching me with concern.

"Wake up," the burly warrior repeated, voice gentler. He released me, but I remained where I was, paralyzed. He stood and whispered something to Fili and Kili, then disappeared with Thorin to take down camp. The brothers spent the next hour calming me down and getting me ready for the day, and then we packed up and left.

I stayed silent the whole day, trapped in my thoughts. Around midday, we reached a section of the mountain that was nearly impassable, and an hour later as we began to make our way through it, it began to rain. It was only a drizzle at first, but within an hour the rain pelted us like little stones, drenching us all. I remembered the last time it rained with Gandalf, where he told us about the other wizards. I wondered where he was; if he was all right.

As I moved to haul myself up over a boulder, my side flared with pain and I hissed, doubling over and nearly falling off the rock. "Are you well, Princess?" Dwalin asked, offering me a hand up as we climbed over a precarious set of boulders that had fallen into our path. The older dwarf's beard and hair shone with the water droplets that streamed down his face. He and all the others, except for Thorin, had seemingly accepted me into the company. "You're moving slower than usual."

I did not find offense at his statement, especially not after that morning when he had been so concerned for me, but accepted his help and pulled myself to the top of the rock pile with a grunt of pain. My hand went to my side, where not two weeks ago I had been torn open by the claws of a warg. I realized that I had not cleaned the wound at all, and I became worried. That night, if weather permitted, I would change the dressings. "I'm alright," I lied, pressing my hand to my side. "Just tired."

We continued hiking up the mountain the rest of the day, and the path we travelled on continued to grow narrower and narrower until it was little more than the shoulder-width of a man, with a cliff on one side and a sheer drop on the other. It was almost dark now, and the freezing rain made it nearly impossible to see. There was a fierce storm in the air, and thunder and lightning crackled through the sky constantly. The wind raged round us, and Fili and Kili were constantly checking over their shoulders to make sure I hadn't fallen.

Thorin called back words of encouragement to the company as continued to struggle forward. "Hold on!"

The stone beneath my feet began to crumble. I looked up, frightened, and saw the rock under Bilbo's feet crack and slip. I froze for a moment, crying out. "Bilbo! Dwalin, grab him!"

Dwalin heard my voice over the wind and managed to pull him back in time. He looked ahead, keeping a firm grip on the hobbit's pack. "We must find shelter!"

My keen ears picked up on a sound I had been hearing for a long while but had dismissed as a crash of thunder. I glanced up at the same time a bolt of lightning split the sky, illuminating an enormous chunk of stone sailing silently through the air. "Watch out!" I pressed myself against the stone face and watched the others do the same as the stone crashed against the cliff side, shaking the foundations of the mountains themselves.

"This is no thunderstorm; it's a thunder battle! Look!" A vaguely humanoid creature made entirely of stone rose from the shadows and roared, baring fangs of rock at something I could not see. Another one of the creatures answered from beyond the mountain. My blood ran cold. I had never felt so small, so helpless.

Bofur stepped forward, eyes as round and large as saucers. "Well bless me, the legends are true. Giants; Stone Giants!" The titan bellowed again and hurled an enormous slab of stone in our direction. I ducked again, shaking violently.

"Take cover you fool!" Thorin yelled over the sounds of the storm and stone. I leapt forward, grabbed Bofur's coat, and hauled him against the wall as the rock smacked against the mountainside with a sound like the earth splitting.

Kili turned to me, eyes wide and panicked. The rain had plastered his bangs to his forehead, and he looked terrified. "What's happening?"

A second giant rounded the corner in time to catch the blunt of the next stone in the shoulder. The impact sent him reeling, and he collided with our mountain. Our path slowly began to crumble as other rocks fell down and knocked off chunks of the pass. Kili grabbed my hand, pulling me closer to both him and the wall. I squeezed his hand back, trembling. My fear of heights came back with a flourish, and I suddenly was petrified with fear. What if I fell? But one look from Kili quelled it.

Any peace was gone in an instant. The ground Kili and I suddenly split. Half the company remained on one side, the other half—my half—on the other. Fili was with me, and Dwalin, and Bilbo. I could see Balin staring helplessly at his brother, and could see Kili's eyes, raw panic reflected in them.

"Kili!" Fili yelled, reaching for his brother. He grabbed my arm, holding me back as I moved to jump to Kili's side.

"Fili! Aeyera!" He reached out to us, but Thorin held him back, blue eyes wide with fear. I had never known him to be afraid, not even when trolls threatened his life.

"Kili!" I screamed. The stone we stood on, which was now revealed to be a giant's knee, moved forward, and Fili moved to shield me with his body, gripping the stone on either side of me to keep my smaller form from falling off. I kept my eyes squeezed shut, my nails digging into the stone. A thousand memories and thoughts rushed through my mind, nearly choking me. I would never see my brother again. Never fall in love. I didn't have to, though, did I? I already was.

A shudder went through the mountain, and I opened my eyes in time to see the head of a giant plunge towards the ground. My heart seemed to stop as we began to follow it. I looked up into Fili's face. It was drawn and pale, but his eyes were open. I clutched the rock with one hand and grabbed his coat, pulling him close to the wall with the other. The next few seconds lasted an eternity. The impact was the worse. It jerked my fingers from the stone, and for a fraction of a second we were flying, then I crashed into a hard, warm body.

I groaned and opened my eyes. Fili lay beneath me, Dwalin under him. Both were fine, and I inadvertently began crying. As Fili sat up, I threw my arms around him. He was alive. He embraced me, patting my back as I pulled away. "Why would you save me?" I choked. My tears mixed with the rain. "Why would you do that?"

"Fili!"

The rest of the company appeared around the corner, and Kili flew over to his brother and I, wrapping Fili in an embrace. I could see him shaking, and I realized that I was as well. To my surprise, he turned and wrapped his trembling arms around me as well. "Thank Mahal you're both safe," he whispered.

"Where's Bilbo? Where's our Hobbit?"

I looked up, panicked. Bofur looked around wildly, and the others spun around. I remained on the ground, in too much shock to trust my legs to function properly. Had he been crushed? Had he fallen? "There!"

Dwalin turned as lightning ripped through the sky. "Get him!"

The dwarves began piling over themselves to reach him, and it was Thorin who threw himself over the cliff to haul him back. My legs began to work, and I scrambled to the edge where Thorin hung. Dwalin was trying to lift him back to safety, but Dwalin's grip slipped, and Thorin began falling as well. I grabbed his free arm and he glared at me, making it clear that my assistance wasn't wanted. I glared back and pulled harder, yelling with pain as the strain tugged on my side. With Dwalin's help, I was able to pull Thorin up. On the last tug, just as Thorin reached solid ground, the rock beneath my left foot crumbled, and I fell, grabbing onto the ledge and screaming as my wound stretched taught. Fili and Kili, who had followed me, pulled me back up where I huddled for a moment, shaking and gathering my thoughts. I was terribly afraid of both heights and falling; I was not overly overjoyed at having experienced both in a matter of moments.

Once Thorin and I were safely on the ledge again, Dwalin turned to Bilbo in obvious relief. "I thought we'd lost both our burglar and our elfling," he said, winking at me to show he meant no harm.

Thorin stood and glared venomously at the obviously shaken-up hobbit and ignored me, turning away. "They've been lost ever since they left home. They should never have come. They have no place amongst us."

I watched him for a moment, then looked down. He was right; I didn't belong here. I didn't belong anywhere. "Dwalin!" We began moving again, heading deeper into the mountains. Fili and Kili stood before and behind me, making sure I did not fall again.

After another hour of useless wandering, we eventually found a cave to rest in. Dwalin peered inside. "Looks safe enough," he said, clearly wanting to be out of the rain.

Thorin glanced around as the others filed in. "Search to the back; caves in mountains are seldom unoccupied."

I stood to the side, arms wrapped around my trembling, dripping form. I couldn't help but wonder why the king would send his family members and friends in first to observe a potentially life-threatening place, and I watched as Dwalin searched the cave with a lantern. I glanced at Thorin in irritation when the older dwarf called, "There's nothing here."

We all crowded inside, relieved to be someplace dry. Gloin dropped a bundle of wood on the floor and rubbed his hands together. "Alright then! Let's get a fire started."

Thorin turned around quickly, quenching any hope we had of becoming dry. "No fires, not in this place. Get some sleep. We start at first light."

Balin turned to the prince. "We were to wait in the mountains until Gandalf joined us. That was the plan."

Thorin scowled. "Plans change. Bofur, take the first watch."

The one thing good out of the whole ordeal was that the princes and I could sleep. Or at least, they could sleep. I could dream. Soon the entire company, save Bofur and I, were asleep. I kept watch in my corner, avoiding sleep. Because of my elf-blood, I didn't need to sleep the same way all other peoples did, but even with my choice, I chose to lie awake rather than to spend my nights locked in a nightmare. I thought of all the years of torment I had received and shuddered. Whenever I was unconscious, I was stuck reliving those horrible moments. Even in waking I was trapped. I had no desire to do so out of choice. Not anymore.

A noise from nearby made me shift and look around. Bilbo, who evidently had only been pretending to be asleep, packed up his things and rolled up his blanket, attaching it to his pack. He hoisted himself to his feet and grabbed his walking stick. With one final glance around, he started to leave the cave, tiptoeing over the sleeping dwarves. I moved stealthily behind him, making no noise in the sand that covered the ground.

"Where do you think you're going?" The kind dwarf asked, startling the hobbit. He jumped, startled, and a helpless expression crossed his face.

"Back to Rivendell," Bilbo whispered, looking at the ground. I recognized the desperation in his eyes; it was mirrored in my own. I moved and stood beside Bofur, watching the hobbit sadly. I wished I could join him, and as much as I hated to see him go, I knew that he could make it. He was strong, this hobbit. And Thorin had hurt him so badly... almost as much as Kili had hurt me. My heart ached, and my throat tightened.

"No, no, you can't turn back now, you're part of the Company. You're one of us," Bofur tried to urge the hobbit to change his mind, but he shook his head, resigned.

"I'm not though, am I? Thorin said I should never have come, and he was right. I'm not a Took, I'm a Baggins, I don't know what I was thinking. I should never have run out my door." He paused for a moment, and then pointed at me with his walking stick. "Aeyera knows what I'm talking about. She's an elf, and she doesn't belong on this venture anymore than I do."

I gazed at the stone for a moment, and then turned my gaze to the hobbit, then finally to the dwarves I so desperately longed to protect. "You're homesick," I finally managed. "I understand."

Bilbo shook his head, angry now. "No, no, you don't, you don't understand! None of you do—you're dwarves, and you're an exile! You're all used to—to this life, to living on the road, never settling in one place, not belonging anywhere!" I dropped my gaze, eyes stinging. His words stung more than I thought they would, rubbing salt into the wound Kili had created a week before. Even if we had come to an understanding, it still hurt. "I'm sorry, I don't..."

Bofur placed a hand on my shoulder briefly, squeezing it kindly. I looked out over the sleeping dwarves, and a tear fell down my cheek. "No, you're right. We don't belong anywhere." I turned back to the hobbit and smiled warmly, more tears forming in my eyes. "I wish you all the luck in the world. I really do."

I moved forward and kissed the hobbit's forehead. _"Be safe, my dear Bilbo Baggins,"_ I said softly, blessing his in the only way I knew how.

"You're not going to convince me to stay?" he asked, looking up at me.

I shook my head, crossing my arms over my chest. "No. You were right—I don't belong anywhere." I smiled softly at the hobbit. "But you belong in the Shire. That's where your home is, and where your heart is." I touched his chest, my hand resting over his heart.

"… And where is your heart, Princess?" he asked, shuffling his hairy feet.

I shook my head, feeling the burden of my years weighing heavily on my shoulders. I glanced over at the sleeping prince in the corner and felt my heart clench painfully. "I don't know."

Bofur placed his hand on Bilbo's shoulder before the hobbit turned, about to walk away from our company forever. Before I could turn away, my keen eyes caught the unmistakable gleam of blue light emanating from Bilbo's sheathed sword. "What's that?"

My blood ran cold, and I turned and raced over to my pallet. I shoved one of the two dagger's Fili had given my down the front of my corset, making sure the flat of the blade pressed against my skin, and not the point. The other went into my boot. I strapped my bow and quiver and long knives to my back, my sword to my side. "Wake up! Get up! Wake up!" I looked up and made eye contact with Thorin, whose terror and realization mirrored my own.

We were too late. Before anyone could react, the floor of the cave collapsed downwards, revealing that the floor was really an enormous trap door. We hung suspended for a moment and then fell straight down, hitting stone time and time again. I spun around, clawing fruitlessly at stone in an effort to slow my descent. My side burned, and my forehead began to sting.

After what seemed like forever, I landed one a pile of dwarves in a wooden cage, suspended over a black chasm. Thorin, who was directly beneath me, reached down and pulled my hood over my head, hiding my hair and fair features. "Do not take it off," he hissed. "No matter what."

His eyes held no anger, no contempt: only panic and fear. I realized what was about to happen a moment before it did. Before I could move, goblins began to swarm us, scratching and clawing at us and dragging us to our feet, snatching away every visible weapon they could find. They began to shove us forward, tugging at any visible clothing or limbs.

The other dwarves formed a guard around me, allowing me a moment to think. It was obvious what would happen if I were discovered to be a female. I shuddered as I walked, cold sweat soaking my tunic and hair. As we were dragged along, I kept my hood drawn and my face downcast, my thoughts whirling but not leading me anywhere. Panic fogged my mind.

The smell was horrible, and it took all my willpower to keep from gagging. It was a milder version of the reek that permeated Dol Guldur, and the reminder made my knees shake. The shrieks of goblins grew deafening, and more and more appeared the deeper we moved into the mountain.

The goblin horde brought us through a vast network of tunnels and wooden bridges to the throne room and platform of the Great Goblin. I had heard of him, of course; he often sent scouts to try and track the Dúnedain's movements. We always caught them, of course, but it was irksome, having to always watch for goblins and wargs instead of telling tales around the fire. Oh how I longed for those times. So simple. So safe. I would have given anything to go back.

The Great Goblin was a massive goblin seated upon on a throne, holding a mace topped with a skull. He was far larger than any other goblin I had faced, and he was incredibly ugly, with enormous, oozing warts, blisters, and sores all over his swinging chin, which looked to be made of fat. His yellow eyes glared down at us, and his brown teeth glistened in the torchlight.

The goblins pushed us into the center of the room, and the dwarves moved so that I was in the center, still protecting me. The goblins threw our weapons to the floor, and the Great Goblin heaved himself off his throne, trampling several goblins situated near the base that acted as a stool. As he approached the company, someone took my hand, and I looked over to see that Kili had gripped it. I squeezed back, very aware of my sweaty, shaking form. I was terrified. The memories of everything I had endured lurked at the very edge of my sanity, and it seemed only moments before I would lose my mind. I remembered the crack and burn of whips and white-hot irons, and the memories made me feverish and petrified.

The Great Goblin began speaking, his voice booming around the great cave. "Who would be so bold as to come armed into my kingdom? Spies? Thieves? Assassins?" He leaned close to us, enormous eye wide and oozing grey liquid.

A goblin close to us replied, "Dwarves, Your Malevolence."

"Dwarves?" The goblin repeated incredulously. He blinked stupidly, eyeing us in a new light.

"We found them on the front porch," it growled. Kili gripped my hand tighter, and the dwarves shuffled around so that I was wedged tightly in the center of the circle. Fili stood to my right and had my forearm in an iron grip. I could feel the cool steel of Fili's knife against the skin of my abdomen, and the other. Thorin glanced my way, taking in my grey, clammy skin and my shaking form. He frowned, obviously confused.

The Great Goblin raised his arms. "Well, don't just stand there; search them! Every crack, every crevice."

_Every crack, every crevice. _I let out a terrified gasp, and Dwalin moved closer to me, growling. The goblins leaped forward, shoving their hands in every fold of clothing they could find. They tugged at my cloak, nearly pulling it off, but I kicked the goblin away. Its claws raked my arm, leaving red welts that burn like stripes from a whip. The dwarves protected me from the worst of the searching, and the goblins did not find the knives, but by the end I was even weaker than before, and Kili now was supporting me. I felt I might collapse.

The Great Goblin spoke again. "What are you doing in these parts? Speak!" Not a one said a word. Thorin stared down the goblin defiantly. "Well then, if they will not talk, we'll make them squawk! Bring out the Mangler! Bring out the Bone Breaker! Start with... that one!"

The Great Goblin searched for a moment before pointing at Kili, and without thinking, I screamed "No! Take me!"

The goblin, startled by my shrill voice, stared for a moment before a horribly evil look crossed his face. "No!" he called to his soldiers. They froze. "Take _her_!" He pointed at me, and the dwarves closed ranks even more, protecting me as best they could. Fili and Kili both fought tooth and nail against the goblins who yanked me away, and Dwalin and Gloin yelled in defiance and tried to defend me as well. Their best efforts weren't enough. They were overcome, and two burly goblins that reeked of sewage dragged me forward and shoved me to my knees, each keeping a strong grip on my shoulders and wrists to keep me in place. I longed to look to Kili, to Fili, to know that they had my back, but I couldn't. I was alone.

"Show me your face," the Great Goblin commanded. I didn't move. Another goblin came forward, yanked my hook back, and forced my head up by jerking a fistful of my hair backward. I cried out, and the goblin frowned slightly, fat jiggling. "I know you." He suddenly laughed, a terrifying, echoing bellow, and the other goblins took up his call, shrieking and jeering. "Your majesty!" he called mockingly, bowing. "It has been too long, my lady. It's been… what? One hundred and fifty years?" He turned to the audience gleefully. "May I introduce, her royal highness: the _Princess _of Mirkwood!" The goblin ranks went ballistic: screaming, laughing, threatening, spitting. One came up and struck me across the face, and I heard Kili shout my name as tears of pain sprung to my eyes. The Great Goblin staggered over to where I stood. "Don't worry, I'll save you for someone else. However… You don't have to be in one piece."

He turned and gestured for the goblins to drag me forward. Their grips on my shoulders were so tight that I feared my joins might tear, and I groaned in pain. The sharpened edge of Fili's knife dug into my skin. They half dragged, half carried me to a whipping post in plain view of every creature in the hall, and then forced me to my knees. They tore off my cloak and tunic and shoes, leaving me in my trousers, corset, and undershirt. The goblin took a knife and sawed through the back of the corset and undershirt, tearing them open.

My wrists were then forced into chains, which were locked tightly. My fingernails dug into the splintered, bloodied wood of the post as fear began to consume me. Darkness began to assault my mind, and I barely had enough strength to fight against it. I fought to preserve my modesty; although I didn't know how much longer I would be alive to do so. The thought of death frightened me more terribly than I had ever let on: what would happen when I died?

"Let us begin with lashes!" The Great Goblin announced happily. "A flogging should do!"

I tried to look over my shoulder at my friends, but a sudden pain like fire flared up from my back, and I screamed, lunging forward against the post and pressing my wrists against the iron trapping them. I clenched my teeth against the pain. I had faced worse pain than this; I could make it—"Another!" He yelled. I tried to keep from making any noise, but it was in vain. The whip they used was embedded with rock and metal, and it tore through my skin as easily as a knife passes through a spider-web. I began to drift out of the mortal world, and everything took on a red tint. Blood dripped down my forehead like sweat; I lived in a world of pain. I could have received one lash or a hundred, I could not tell. The goblin spoke again, and I heard something that pierced my mind like an arrow. "Fetch the hot irons."

I wept and whimpered, straining wildly against the iron chains holding me in place. I could feel the heat nearing my exposed flesh, and right before it made contact, Thorin's voice echoed through the cave. "Wait!"

The goblin laughed. "Well, well, well, look who it is. Thorin son of Thrain, son of Thror; King under the Mountain." I sagged against the pole. He gave himself up; I couldn't save him. I tried, I tried, but I couldn't—I just couldn't. "Oh, but I'm forgetting, you don't have a mountain. And you're not a king. Which makes you nobody, really." The goblin audience tittered as they watched.

"Release the elf," Thorin bellowed. "It's me you want, not her."

I sagged against the posts, unable to keep myself upright. "No," the Great goblin replied. "She stays."

I couldn't fall unconscious; it was nearly impossible with the energy flooding through my veins despite the agony I felt. I was literally forced to stay awake, and I listened to the terrible goblin as he spoke. "I know someone who would pay a pretty price for your head," he told Thorin. "Just the head, nothing attached. Perhaps you know of whom I speak, an old enemy of yours. A Pale Orc astride a White Warg," he snarled the rest. "He desires to have your blood as well, elfling," he leered, touching my back with one of his enormous fingers. I jerked away, crying out. "You're not out of the fire yet."

I felt my blood run cold, and I began shaking even more than I had been before. _How could Azog the Defiler possibly be alive?_

"Azog the Defiler was destroyed," Thorin replied, voice hushed. "He was slain in battle long ago."

The Great Goblin laughed at him. "So you think his defiling days are done, do you?" He roared with mirth. "Send word to the Pale Orc; tell him I have found his prize." A small, shrill voice began to cackle with laughter, and the sound faded quickly as my dread grew.

"Bring the torture machines!" The goblin called, dancing from one foot to the other. The planks below my knees shuddered and creaked. "Only their leader and the elf are needed alive."

Minutes later, dozens of goblins carried massive instruments of torture on their shoulders, bringing them to the Great Goblin. Meanwhile, the Great Goblin was dancing and singing lustily, "Bones will be shattered, necks will be rung! You'll be beaten and battered, from racks you'll be hung. You will lie down here and never be found, down in the deep of Goblin Town!"

The goblins suddenly began to shriek and squeal, and the Great Goblin ran rapidly to his throne, enormous feet stomping the ground, trampling many goblins on his way. He spoke loudly, frantically, "I know that sword! It is the Goblin-Cleaver, the Biter, the blade that sliced a thousand necks!"

The crack of whips sounded throughout the cave, as well as the sound of the dwarves' yells and grunts of pain. I strained against the iron shackles but could do nothing; even the smallest movement sent bolts of agony through my shattered mind. "Slash them! Beat them! Kill them! Kill them all! Cut off their heads!"

"NO!" I screamed.

Suddenly, there was a massive explosion of bright light; everything seemed muted as the shockwave of energy exploded towards us. Everyone was knocked down, including the Great Goblin. The pole I was chained to was not. When the force of the explosion had passed, most of the lights in the area had been snuffed out; I looked over to see that in the background, a tall shadow with a pointed hat was walking up. It was Gandalf, holding his staff and his sword, Glamdring. Light slowly returned to the area as the goblins and the dwarves began to sit up, all united in confusion. "Take up arms. Fight. Fight!"

The sound of fighting commenced quickly, and I tugged fruitlessly against my chains, tears rolling down my cheeks. A hand touched my shoulder, and I screamed. "Aeyera, we're here!" Fili and Nori stood beside me, and the latter immediately began picking at the locks of the shackles, releasing me in seconds. Fili took in my ruined clothing and immediately reached forward and tied my undershirt together at the top and bottom, preserving my modesty as best he could. He did the same with my corset and then lifted me to my feet. The whips had not missed them, and bloody footprints stained the wood. I sagged against the prince, gripping handfuls of his coat in my shaking fists.

"I can't—" My tongue felt like sandpaper.

My feet burned, and I choked back a sob as I tried to stand. Fili didn't realize what was wrong, at first. He urged me to stand, but Nori's soft voice cut through the chaos. "Fili, she can't walk. Her feet…" Fili looked down and paled visibly. A goblin moved to strike the prince, but a well-aimed blow from Dwalin's hammer knocked it back. The Great Goblin's voice cut through the clamor. "He wields the Foe-Hammer, the Beater, bright as daylight!"

I saw Kili grab my weapons and swing them over his shoulders, fighting with his sword to hack his way to his brother. A group of goblins suddenly swarmed our little group, tearing me away from my friends. Unable to stand, I was knocked to the ground, and stars exploded behind my eyes as my head cracked against the ground. Through blurry eyes I saw the Great Goblin bearing down on me, mace held his over his head, ready to back my skull in. I shut my eyes and curled into a ball, shaking. Hot blood soaked the cloth barely covering my mutilated body.

"_Aeyera! NO!_" My eyes jerked open in time to see Thorin leap forward and deflect the Great Goblin's blow. The beast stumbled backward and stumbled off the edge of his platform, waving his arms wildly, a look of panic on his face. He lost his balance and fell, disappearing in the darkness below. Thorin scooped me into his arms before passing my limp from to Oin and Ori. The two supported me as best they could, fighting with their free arms.

Gandalf turned quickly. "Follow me. Quick! Run!"

Everything began to blur together. Ori broke off to rush to his brother's side, leaving Oin alone to carry me through the tunnels in Gloin's wake. I took deep, shuddering breaths, feeling the steel of Fili's knife on my ribs. Almost unconsciously, I reached down and pulled it from beneath my clothing, gripping it in my fist. I would not be defenseless again, not here. I kept my eyes fixated on Kili and Fili's backs, noting that Kili had a strange pouch slung over his shoulder. As my mind drifted, I watched them, making sure they were safe as we headed deeper and deeper into the mountain, fleeing for our lives.


	15. Chapter 15

The dwarves helped support me as we ran through the suspended passageways of Goblin Town. Hundreds of goblins chased after us, shrieking so loudly that it was impossible to remember a time the sound did not fill the air. The dwarves fought ferociously, and not for the first time was I grateful that we were on the same side. Kili and Fili, who were several dwarves ahead of me, fought with unbridled fury that I can only describe as the same protectiveness a mother bear has for her cubs.

As I staggered along, crying out whenever my torn up feet touched the wood, the dwarves shot me glances of concern and guilt, but it was hard for me to see clearly; everything went in and out of focus. I could barely think I was so dizzy, and thick, hot blood ran down my back, arms, and feet. I couldn't even fight. Even had I had my weapons, which I didn't, there was no way I could have held a sword, much less fired a bow.

Gandalf turned around, searching the group frantically. His eyes locked on my nearly motionless form, and I felt the Istari's attention and panic focused almost solely on me. "Quickly!" He yelled, swinging Glamdring and taking off a goblin's head. Suddenly, a goblin leapt forward, about to take off Thorin's head. Without thinking I drew Fili's knife from my corset and threw it with deadly accuracy, sending it spinning through the air and into the eye of one that had been about to murder Thorin. The king's face morphed into that of surprise when he turned and faced the creature that would have killed him. I saw him take in the knife—which only Fili or I could have thrown with such deadly accuracy—and the position the orc was in, and he glanced at me appraisingly before continuing on. The motion had left me alarmingly weak, and I sagged against the dwarf supporting me.

The entire fight began to grow muted, and I felt exhausted. My body grew light as darkness began encroaching on my mind in earnest, the voices screaming to be heard. _ You will die. You will fail. They will die. _

Thorin's controlled voice reached my ears, breaking through the shadows and waking me up. I have to stay awake. "Cut the ropes!"

The dwarf carrying me—I couldn't remember who anymore—stumbled and fell, and I tumbled out of his arms onto the wooden planks of the path. I tried to rise and screamed, stomach acid and vomit spilling out my mouth and onto the ground at the pain that tore through me. The foul air stung my exposed muscles, and I wept with pain, struggling to keep from collapsing. A pair of arms lifted me up, and I opened my eyes to see Dwalin above me.

"Come on, princess," he said gruffly. "We need to go!"

"Quickly!" Gandalf yelled, urging us on.

I fought to keep my eyes open even as my ears rang and my vision blurred. We continued running through the maze-like paths and eventually made it to a section of the path suspended by ropes from above with nothing below but darkness. Dwalin stayed close to Fili and Kili, being unable to fight, until Thorin took me from him, sheathing his sword. The platform was unsteady, and Thorin fought to keep his balance. The dwarves cut through the rope supporting it and the pathway swung away from the rest of the path, approaching a different one on the other side of the ravine. The dwarf king gripped me tightly leapt onto the other platform while yelling for the others to jump.

Several of the dwarves, including Fili, Kili, and Dwalin, managed to jump to the other path where I stood. However, before the rest could, the path swung back like a pendulum to where it started, and several goblins leaped onto the platform and engaged the dwarves again. Fili and Kili stood back-to-back and fought together. One goblin slammed into Thorin, who dropped me through no fault of his own. As I struggled to rise, a goblin slammed the butt of his spear into my temple, then knelt over me and pulled out a dagger. I could barely see or breathe, and I couldn't move. I could do nothing but watch as the goblin's blade came towards me, and I did nothing as Fili's knife buried itself up to the hilt in its neck. It toppled over backwards, dead.

Kili knelt down and scooped me into his arms as the rest of the company managed to jump to the new path. They cut the ropes immediately, causing the swinging path and the goblins on it to fall. No matter how many goblins they cut down, however, there were hundreds more to take their places.

They continued continued running through the tunnels, killing all the goblins in their way. Kili and Fili both supported me, their arms wrapped around my waist and my arms around their shoulders; I couldn't stand on my own. Although this way was painful, at least both brothers were able to fight, and so I did not complain as we continued on.

Soon we approached a bridge between two walls of the cavern. Light was visible on the other side—daylight—and it glimmered and shone so that I nearly began to weep again. The company surged forward, but before we could cross it, the Great Goblin suddenly broke through from underneath the bridge and pulled himself up onto the wooden planks in front of us.

"Don't you people ever die?" I muttered, immensely aggravated. Kili cracked a small smile, but it quickly disappeared when he turned his attention back to the matter at hand. As the Company paused, hundreds of goblins approached us from all sides, albeit wary of us now that several hundred had been killed.

"You thought you could escape me?" The Great Goblin swung his mace twice at Gandalf, causing him to stumble back and almost fall. The dwarves caught him and pushed him upright again. "What are you going to do now, wizard?"

Snarling, Gandalf leaped forward and struck the Great Goblin in the eye with the pointy tip of his staff. The Great Goblin dropped his mace and clutched at his face in pain, hands scrabbling at his eye. "Ow, ow, ow!" He howled. Gandalf stepped forward and sliced the Great Goblin's midsection, and it fell to his knees, looking down at the fatty intestines threatening to spill out of him. The Great Goblin looked up, bemused, and glanced around at all of us. "That'll do it."

Gandalf once again swung his sword and sliced the Great Goblin's throat, causing him to fall down dead with an almighty squelch. However, the weight of the goblin falling against the platform was too much for the wood to handle. The section of the bridge we stood upon broke away from the rest of the path and began sliding down the side of the cavern. It slid at a terrific speed down the cavern's wall, demolishing everything in its way; the dwarves clung on, yelling in terror. Kili held me close to him, doing his best to protect me. I clung it him, squeezing my eyes shut. My breath came out in quick, short bursts as my stomach rose into my throat.

The bridge jerked to a stop and slid down with ear-splitting screeches until it came to a rest at the bottom of the cavern. The company was covered in splintered wood. Kili passed me off to Gandalf, one of the only one's not stuck in the rubble. I noticed blearily that Kili still had a sack thrown over his shoulder, and wondered what on earth it could be. Gandalf patted my shoulder and went to check on the others as I sunk to the ground, not noticing the blood on his hand.

Bofur smiled and looked around, trying to get a beam off his legs, and trying to lighten the mood, said: "Well, that could have been worse."

A millisecond later, the heavy corpse of the Great Goblin landed on the wreckage, pinning the dwarves further. "You've got to be joking," Dwalin roared, jerking his legs out from under the platform. On a whim, I looked up and saw thousands of goblins running at us, climbing down the walls and shrieking with bloodlust.

Kili, apparently, had done the same. "Gandalf!" He yelled warningly, gripping his brother's hand as Fili yanked him out from under the splintered timber. Once on his feet, he rushed over and picked me up once again, tugging me along behind him.

"There's too many! We can't fight them," Dwalin yelled, helping Balin to his feet and pulling his elder brother along.

Gandalf turned to us. "Only one thing will save us: daylight! Come on! Here, on your feet!" The dwarves got up quickly, helping each other out of the rubble, and we ran away, following Gandalf. Kili, knowing that I was on the verge of unconsciousness, ran as gently and quickly as he could, his breathing labored, murmuring things under his breath that I couldn't hear.

"Aeyera, look!" Kili said, desperately trying to keep me awake. I jerked, opening my eyes. I had been dreaming.

_It had been morning, and I had stood at a balcony, my hands resting on my swollen belly. My husband's arms were wrapped around me, and his chin had rested on my shoulder—_

Kili's voice brought me back, although I wondered if it really had been a dream. "It's the exit! We're almost out." I opened my eyes further and saw the late afternoon sunlight streaming into the cave, and I wept. Kili continued murmuring encouraging words to me as we broke out of the darkness of the cave and ran down the steep, tree-covered slope. The fresh mountain air was in stark contrast to the pungent, stinking hole we had just climbed out of, and I felt rejuvenated—to a degree—though I still was on the verge of unconsciousness. The run jostled the gaping wounds in my back, and I bit my lip so hard to keep from crying out that I drew blood.

After a time that I couldn't keep track of to save my life, Gandalf paused to count how many dwarves were with him as we stopped to collect our breath. Kili set me down and passed me my cloak and tunic, which he had saved from the goblins. He also had my boots with him, and he wrapped my feet in bandages before sliding my stockings and boots on as gently as he could. I could walk now, although it was incredibly painful still, now that there was no danger of splinters or rocks being wedged in the wounds. I absently listened to Gandalf as Kili tied my underclothes together in a braid-like fashion, Fili helping. I counted in my head as well, trying to concentrate on something other than the nagging pain that encased my entire being. I slid the tunic on over my ruined clothes. "Five, six, seven, eight... Bifur, Bofur... that's ten... Fili, Kili... that's twelve... and Bombur—that makes thirteen. Princess Aeyera… that's fourteen. Where's Bilbo? Where is our Hobbit?" He asked, glancing around. Several of the company jumped to their feet, alarmed. "WHERE IS OUR HOBBIT?"

"Curse the halfling! Now he's lost?!" Dwalin growled.

Gloin looked around, eyes narrowing. "I thought he was with Dori!"

Dori grew instantly defensive, turning to the ginger-haired dwarf. "Don't blame me!"

The angry wizard looked around and captured the grey-bearded dwarf in his piercing gaze. "But where did you last see him?"

Nori looked guilty and piped up, shrinking away from the fuming sorcerer. "I think I saw him slip away, when they first collared us."

Gandalf turned on him. "What happened exactly? Tell me!"

Thorin stepped up as Kili helped me to my feet. Fili wrapped his arm around my waist, supporting my weight as I fought to stand. Kili wrapped my cloak around my shoulders as I began to shake. "I'll tell you what happened—Master Baggins saw his chance and he took it! He's thought of nothing but his soft bed and his warm hearth since first he stepped out of his door! We will not be seeing our Hobbit again. He is long gone."

I moved forward, anger fueling my movements even as my knees shook so badly I nearly fell with every step. "Do not speak of him like that," I said angrily. I shook where I stood, and nearly all of my weight was on Fili's and Kili's shoulders. Their arms were around my waist in an effort to keep me from collapsing. My voice, however, did not waver. _'I've had it up to here with this dwarf's arrogance_._'_ "Bilbo took up this quest even though it was not his burden to bear, and you have done nothing but put him down since the moment he joined us. You have no right—"

"I have every right," he bellowed, stepping forward till we were nearly touching. "This is my quest, not his. Neither is it yours, _Princess_," he added venomously. "Go back to your woodland halls." He turned back to the rest of the company. "As I said before, our Hobbit is long gone. You, elfling," he added, looking venomously at me over his shoulder, "would be wise to join him; he is halfway back to Rivendell by now."

The dwarves looked at each other, unsure of how to react. Kili pulled me gently away and moved me out of the way so I could rest for a bit. My hands gripped his arms and tunic in a vice-like grip, and I held my breath as he eased me to the ground.

"No, he isn't."

I looked up in shock and relief to see Bilbo stepping out from behind a tree. I gasped, nearly laughing in joy. Looking around, I saw that many of the dwarves' expressions mirrored my own. Gandalf laughed as he spoke. "Bilbo Baggins! I've never been so glad to see anyone in my life!" Bilbo strode forward into the group; he patted Balin affectionately on the shoulder and winked over at me, not noticing the blood on my face and hands.

Kili grinned from ear to ear; an identical grin rested on his brother's face as the two of them looked up from where they were crouched next to me on the ground. "Bilbo! We'd given you up!"

"How on earth did you get past the Goblins?!" Fili added.

Dwalin smiled affectionately and stepped up, wonder and curiosity in his voice. "How, indeed."

I tilted my head a bit as I gazed at Bilbo, who appeared to be thinking of what to say. An awkward silence descended on the group, and Fili joined his brother at my side with a medicine pouch from Oin's bag. Bilbo continued searching for something to say, his mouth opening and closing wordlessly.

Fili quickly mixed some of the powder in my water skin and made me drink it; I gagged at its bitter taste, but relaxed as instantly a warm feeling settled over me and the fog cleared from my mind. I sat up, although I did not risk placing weight on my feet. The more time that passed, the better I felt: the pain, for the moment, was gone.

Bilbo gave a nervous laugh and put his hands on his hips, slipping something into the pocket of his waistcoat, which was missing its buttons. I glanced at Gandalf, who looked a bit perturbed, and I wondered if he had caught the glimmer of gold that had slipped into the hobbit's pocket.

"Well, what does it matter? He's back!" Gandalf said lightly.

Thorin frowned menacingly and stepped forward, glaring at the hobbit as though he were a puzzle he wasn't sure how to solve. "It matters! I want to know—why did you come back?"

Bilbo gazed at the dwarf sadly, a slight smile on his face. "Look, I know you doubt me, and I know you always have. And you're right, I often think of Bag End. I miss my books. And my armchair. And my garden. See, that's where I belong. That's home. And that's why I came back, cause you don't have one. A home. It was taken from you. But I will help you take it back if I can." I smiled proudly at the halfling as silence reigned over the company, each dwarf thinking about what Bilbo said. His words healed my heart, soothing the wound Thorin had so carelessly placed there. Bilbo suddenly frowned, catching sight of my hands, which were bright crimson. "Aeyera, what's on your hands?" The dwarves turned to me, and the ones I had befriended looked alarmed; even the ones who had thus far given me the cold shoulder seemed at least mildly concerned.

"I-I just…" I stammered, shrinking back somewhat as Thorin's expression turned murderous. "They… they beat me, in the tunnels, it… it's nothing, just…"

"How did this happen?" Gandalf demanded. "Did no one watch over her?" He yelled, looking pointedly at Thorin as he spoke.

"There was nothing they could've done, Mithrandir," I said softly, wincing as the wizard poked my back to evaluate the full extent of the damage. At the same time, though, I felt a bubbling anger at Thorin for not stepping forward earlier; if he had, I wouldn't have been flogged.

"That is a lie, and you know it, elfling," he said, glaring at Thorin. "But we will discuss that at a later time. We need to get these wounds inspected." He moved my cloak over, and I heard his intake of breath as he looked at the back of my tunic; I guessed the blood had by then seeped through the thick cloth.

"The light is fading," the dwarf king pointed out without sparing me a glance. "We are too close to the goblin tunnels; sunlight is our only protection, and it is fast disappearing."

"It is your own fault she is wounded," The wizard shot back. "However, he is right, my lady," the wizard said, pulling me to my feet. "Don't worry; we'll find help soon enough." As the company began moving again, he spoke quietly in my ear. "Just in case I become separated from the company, Aeyera," he whispered, eyeing the dwarves, "I leave it to you to protect the line of Durin."

I looked up at him in surprise as the dwarves shuffled by, headed down the mountain, startled by the sudden gravity of his request and confused that he did not already know that I had received my wounds for them. "What?"

"I meant to ask this of you when first this venture began, but I did not. I ask this of you now, although you have done a marvelous job of it already: will you protect the line of Durin with your life, should it come down to it?" I stayed silent, considering the gravity of his request and knowing that the wizard already knew that I would have done this anyway; that I had earned the stripes on my back by protecting them. I knew how that particular goblin worked: he could sniff out the youngest and torture them for days on end until finally he killed them, making the others watch helplessly as he did so. In this case, the youngest were Fili and Kili, Kili being the younger of the two brothers. I would never allow them to face torment and death; if I had wanted to stay hidden, the thick-skulled orc filth would not have found me. I let them find me so they would be distracted from the dwarves. I had already saved them before; I knew I would do it again in a heartbeat. "You told me once that you did not have a purpose," he said softly. "Tell me: why are you still here? Why haven't you left?"

"I suppose because I want to help them," I answered, weaving around a large birch in my path. "I know what it's like to lose a home; a family."

"Is that all?" he asked, looking over at the setting sun as we jogged behind the group. His eyes twinkled with eons of knowledge, and I knew that he knew my answer. "Sympathy?"

"No. No one should lose a brother," I said, thinking back to the last time I saw my own brother, thinking back over more years than I cared to count. "I will not allow Fili or Kili to feel that pain. Nor will I allow their mother to deal with the pain of losing another brother or a son; she already has lost her youngest brother and her husband."

He nodded solemnly, a proud smile touching his lips. "I understand. You are wise beyond your years." I nodded, ready and willing to accept this responsibility, however abrupt the request may be. "Aeyera Greenleaf: do you swear to protect the line of Durin, to the best of your abilities, until they release you from your duties?"

"They will not know," I corrected softly, crying out as I jumped over a fallen log and landed on my ruined feet. "But I will protect them until the end."


	16. Chapter 16

We ran for another hour as the shadows lengthened around us and the pain on my back and feet slowly began to return. However, I refused to slow the company down and therefore did not bother stopping to drink any more medicine, though I knew I would regret my decision later. I ignored the nagging feeling in my heart and continued to push forward, thinking instead of those I needed to protect: of Kili and his love for his bother, of Fili and his fierce protectiveness over his kin, and of Thorin, who was fiercely loyal to his family and had already lost his father, grandfather, and brothers. _I refuse to let him lose anyone else. _

The howls of wargs floated down the mountain to us as they had for the past half hour, but it still came as a shock when the first Warg caught up to the group and leaped at Bilbo, who nimbly jumped behind a rock as the Warg's jaws snapped shut on empty air above his head. Kili had given me my weapons after the first howl had sounded, and I skidded to a stop as the Warg landed in front of Bilbo and charged him, growling.

I drew my bow and set an arrow on the string, aiming for the wolf charging the hobbit, but at the last moment sending it speeding into the heart of an orc about to impale Fili on the end of its spear. It froze and toppled over, tripping another that was quickly ended by Dwalin's axes. Fili nodded at me, thankful and surprised, and they continued on as I looked over at the hobbit, fearing the worst. I was quite pleasantly surprised to see that he had skewered the massive beast on his sword and was now standing, shocked, in front of its corpse. Another orc snuck behind him, and with hands that moved faster than sight I sent an arrow between its eyes before Bilbo even had a chance to turn around. With a nod, I turned and ran until I reached the edge of a cliff where the others stood, panicking. I gripped my bow, scanning the landscape for some way of escape. '_The only means of escape are heading back the way we came or leaping off the overhang, neither of which we would survive for very long.' _

I growled in frustration and looked at Gandalf for answers. "Up into the trees, all of you! Come on, climb! Bilbo, climb!" He yelled, maneuvering up into its branches. I turned just as Bifur threw his axe, killing a Warg, which had been about to take my head off. I looked over at him in surprise, nodding my thanks, and sent an arrow deftly into the chest of another that had strayed far too close for comfort.

I jumped out of the way as Bofur jumped off a rock and grabbed a tree branch, using Dwalin's head as a stepping-stone to the tree. Other dwarves began climbing into the trees as well. I boosted Fili and Kili up; Thorin was in Gandalf's tree, which was nearest to the cliff's edge.

The king yelled, "They're coming!" As Kili grabbed my arm and pulled me forcibly up into his tree as he and his brother climbed to the top.

"We're not leaving you behind," he told me seriously, gripping my hand. I nodded and yelped as Fili clapped his hand on my shoulder, where a large gash lay from my flogging. Kili's eyes widened at something behind me, and I turned my head to see what had startled him: Fili's hand was scarlet with blood from touching my shoulder.

I turned to Kili. "I'm fine," I said distractedly, reaching for an arrow. I winced and brought my arm back, unable to reach back because of the pain. "Fine," I repeated, watching the main body of Wargs and Warg Riders approach. I slung my bow over my shoulder, unable to hold onto it any longer and not wanting to leave it. I looked down as Bilbo hauled himself into our tree just as dozens of Wargs reached us. They leaped at the trees, clawing at the bark and snarling at those at their peaks, but they ceased after several minutes, and I turned around to see why. Fili and Kili grabbed my arms as I nearly fell off my perch in shock.

The Wargs had ceased their growling because their leader had come: the white warg with Azog on its back was approaching slowly, and the latter was leering at the dwarf king and I.

"Azog?!" I whispered. Kili's grip on my arm tightened.

The warg growled, and the pale orc stroked its fur with his metal arm, whispering in black-speech, which I had trained myself to understand. It raised its voice, sneering. "Nuzdigid? Nuzdi gast? Ganzilig-i unarug obod nauzdanish, Torin undag Train-ob." I knew the others would not understand, and I could not bring myself to translate. _Do you smell it? The scent of fear? I remember your father reeked of it, Thorin son of Thrain_. My mouth opened in grief for the king as I realized the pain the king must be in, knowing that Azog had captured his father. The orc turned his dark gaze to me. "Agh lat, karanzol. Brusnar nariinizg lat, ziimarpizg darûkûrz: durlob Aeyera." _'And you, elfling. I have not forgotten you, you weak coward: Princess Aeyera.' _I shrunk back, terrified, as memories of torture invaded my mind. Kili squeezed my hand, trying to bring me back to myself, but I was focused solely on the orc, who was speaking to his Wargs and Riders. "Kod, Toragid biriz. Worori-da!" _Those two are mine. Kill the others!_

At his command, the Wargs leaped forward and tried to climb the trees, and I snapped out of whatever spell I had been under. _I will not go back. I would rather jump off this cliff than go back to Dol-Guldur. _Kili shook me, and I raised my hand weakly. "I'm alright," I mumbled, shaking my head in an attempt to clear it.

The Wargs jumped as high as they could, scrabbling at the tree trunks and breaking apart branches in their jaws in their effort to reach us, but thankfully, they were unable to find a foothold on the trees, which had been stripped bare of their bark. However, the trees shook violently at the assault, and we were struggling to hold on. "Sho gad adol!" _Drink their blood! _The pale orc yelled gleefully, watching us struggle to maintain our positions in the trees.

With the weight of the Wargs climbing it, the furthest tree from the edge of the cliff—which happened to be ours—was uprooted from the ground and began tilting wildly. As more Wargs grabbed onto it, the tree tipped over and landed on the next tree; we jumped from the falling tree to the next. I leaped into the tree, clutching at the pine needles and thanking Tauriel over and over for letting me sneak out and tree hop when I was small: if not for the practice, I would surely have fallen to the ground whether from a bad grip or dizziness from loss of blood.

Just as we were settled, this tree as well tipped over; like dominoes, all the trees began falling onto each other, and with each jump, more and more of my strength left me. All the dwarves, Bilbo, Gandalf, and I managed to jump onto the last tree, on the very edge of the cliff. This tree—thankfully—didn't fall over. Yet.

Azog laughed.

Thorin grabbed my shoulder and pulled me backwards. I started, terrified. I had been a second away from falling out of the tree. "Why does he want you?" he whispered. I opened my mouth to answer but was distracted by a fiery pinecone falling past me, which had been thrown from the top of the tree to the ground. It landed on the Wargs, who retreated in fear of the fire, yelping and snarling like dogs. Gandalf lit several more pinecones and threw them down to the dwarves. "Fili!" Fili caught the pinecone and used it to light several others, which he passed down to the rest of the company. We gathered pinecones and Gandalf set them on fire. I threw the flaming projectiles at the Wargs, feeling an odd sense of elation as their fur caught fire. All the area around the tree was set ablaze, forcing the Wargs to retreat a distance, and at least one Warg galloped away with its fur alight, shrieking in pain. Miraculously, our own tree was not caught ablaze; that would have been terrible misfortunate. Azog roared in anger and frustration as the dwarves cheered.

I cried out suddenly, and the others' cheers turned to cries of terror as the roots of the tree we perched in began to give way under our combined weight. The tree tipped precariously over the edge of the cliff but came to a rest sticking straight out away from the edge of the cliff. I gripped my branch with both arms, gasping, my legs hanging out in the air with nothing to support them. I, though I had no problem with trees, was not overly fond of heights or falling, and my heart sped up till it thundered in my chest like a galloping horse.

I heard a commotion from far behind me but was in no position to look to see what the matter was; I managed to hook one leg around a branch and was working to pull myself up. I glanced over at Azog and saw him growl, his gaze flickering between Thorin and I. I glared at him in hate and anger, and if looks could kill, he would have been dead ten times over.

I heard a grunt and looked up as Thorin pulled himself up into a standing position, his sword drawn. He strode off the tree and began running towards the orc, oblivious to the obvious danger surrounding him. Screaming in pain, I hauled myself up and pushed myself onto my hands and knees; my promise burned in my mind as I began running after the king, ignoring the shouts behind me as I pulled my knives free.

Thorin ran through the burning ground at Azog and his warg, hair flying out behind him as he brandished his sword and oaken shield. Azog spread his arms wide with a smug grin on his face, welcoming Thorin to him as if his were the arms of death.

"Thorin!" I screamed. Azog crouched, and then roared as his warg leaped at Thorin. The king tried to swing his sword, but the beast slammed him in the chest with its forepaw, smashing him to the ground. I leaped over a burning tree, which kept the other wargs at bay.

As Thorin got back on his feet, panting, Azog and his white mount wheeled around and charged Thorin again. Azog swung his mace and smashed Thorin in the face before Thorin could react.

"No!" I yelled, still running. I felt as though I was running through mud and water, it took so long to reach them. Thorin was brutally flung to the ground by the impact, and his breath left him. Azog roared in excitement. The warg clamped its jaws around Thorin, biting down, and he yelled in pain. As the white warg held Thorin in its mouth, I finally reached them, and I slashed its muzzle with my knife. Roaring, the White Warg threw Thorin several meters away onto a flat rock nearby, and his body slammed into mine, pinning me underneath. Thorin landed heavily, his sword falling out of his hand, and he was nearly unconscious by the time he hit the rock. I gasped, the dwarf was heavy, and I could hardly breathe. The rocks beneath me pressed into my wounds, and I cried out, struggling to free myself. I pushed on the limp king's body and he barely moved; the very one I had to protect was inadvertently keeping me from protecting him.

From behind me I heard Azog say, "Biriz torag khobdudol." _Bring me their heads. _Summoning the last bit of my strength, I managed to get the majority of my body out from under Thorin, but my left leg was still pinned. I yelled and pulled at it in frustration, trying desperately to get the dwarf's armored body off mine, but he didn't budge.

One of Azog's warg riders jumped off his Warg and approached Thorin and I, and I fought with waning strength to get free. Tears of anger and fear were forming, and I cried out as a snap shuddered through my body. I suddenly realized that my ankle had likely been broken by Thorin's weight and force of my fall added to the odd angle at which it had been landed on. I was in so much pain by this time, however, that it barely made a difference. The adrenaline flooding through my body kept me awake.

The orc approached Thorin and placed its sword against his neck. The dwarf gasped, trying in vain to reach his sword although he could barely move his arm. I slashed at the orc with my knife, but he parried and knocked the blade out of my hand before delivering a well-aimed kick to my jaw. My head snapped back and I fell, cracking my head on the stone. _'Come on, get up! Protect him, come on!'_ I raised myself onto my elbows as through blurred eyes I saw the orc raise the sword again, the rider prepared to decapitate Thorin, and then myself. As he swung his sword down, I twisted my body and threw myself over Thorin, eyes shut tight, waiting for a blow that did not come. I opened my eyes and lifted me head to see that Bilbo had thrown himself at the orc and had knocked him over him. The fight was short lived, and Bilbo managed to kill the orc, stabbing it multiple times. As Azog growled in anger, Thorin went unconscious, and I tried to rise, only to fall back onto him, nearing unconsciousness myself but determined to protect him till my dying breath.

Bilbo, much to my amazement, pulled his sword from the orc's corpse and ran to stand in front of Thorin and I, protecting us. He waved his sword wildly at Azog and the other wargs. Azog looked down at him in distain and spoke in the common tongue, sounding disinterested. "Kill him."

A couple of Wargs and Riders approached Bilbo, snarling. I tried to move but was unsuccessful. Black and red spots danced in my vision, and my breathing became more and more labored. I clenched my teeth, but could do nothing but watch. Suddenly, Fili, Kili, and Dwalin, who had managed to get off the tree, plowed into the wargs from the side and began engaging them in a fight. In the confusion, Bilbo yelled and leaped forward, wounding a warg. The white warg then hit Bilbo with its head and sent him flying. As the fighting around them continued, Azog and his warg approached Bilbo to kill him.

"No," I mumbled, pulling uselessly at my leg. "Bilbo…"

I turned my dying attention to the other and felt my heart sink at their position. Fili, Kili, and Dwalin had been surrounded by wargs, and Bilbo was at Azog's mercy. I saw Kili lunge at a warg, which snapped at him, nearly catching his arm in its jaw but missing by a hair's breadth. "Kili!" I gasped, moving forward an inch. I grabbed my fallen knife—which lay feet away from me—and threw it, hard. Despite my weakness, the knife hit its target—the warg's eye—and the beast dropped. Kili turned in surprise, but the action had weakened me further, and I had fallen against his uncle's body, unable to move.

Suddenly enormous eagles, creatures as old as the Maiar, appeared, screeching. Some began to swoop back and forth, gathering up wargs and orcs in their claws and dropping them off the cliff. Others knocked down trees, which crushed the Wargs below them. Another Eagle fanned the flames with its wings, creating an inferno which burned the wargs and caused them to run away, yelping like puppies.

Azog snarled in frustration.

One Eagle gently grabbed Thorin and his sword in its talons and flew away, leaving me on the ground, unable to move. As Thorin was lifted off the ground, his oaken branch shield slipped off his arm and landed on the ground next to me. I reached out and grabbed it, clutching it close to my chest.

I heard Azog roar and I turned to see him jump back as an Eagle flew by him; the Eagle headed straight for me, and it picked me gently up, positioning its talons so that I would not fall. Another eagle right behind it had snatched up Bilbo and dropped him onto the back of another.

I blinked up at the eagle's underbelly as my vision became hazy and grey, and I hooked the shield to my arm right before my vision blacked out completely and I finally slipped into welcome darkness.

-o-

"Aeyera! Princess, wake up!"

I gasped for breath and my lungs filled with air as I coughed and hacked, expelling ash from my lungs. My memory remained blank for a moment as I blinked up at the wizard's relieved face above me, then all the horrifying events from before crashed down on me, and my eyes widened as the lashes on my back throbbed.

"Mithrandir," I groaned, struggling to sit up. Someone else held me down, and I looked over to see Kili's hands on my shoulders. A wave of relief fell on me; the last I had seen of him, a warg had nearly bitten off his arm. "Kili…" I whispered, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes, "You're alright," I managed, embracing him tightly. "Thank Eruyou're alright," I whispered, tightening my grip as his arms wrapped around my fragile body, holding me as if I were a bit of glass that might shatter if he dropped me. He had pulled me into a kind of sitting position, and my head was nestled between his neck and shoulder. I finally felt my age: I was young, just a child, especially considering my damaged mental state. If we were to convert to human years, I was probably younger even than Kili—and I wanted nothing more than to stay right here and not move for the next century.

"You foolish elfling," he whispered into my hair, sounding both relieved and angry. "What were you thinking? You could have gotten yourself killed!"

"I-I couldn't let him die," I choked out, shaking. "I couldn't…"

"You saved me in the cave," he whispered. "You should have left me to take the lashing… you saved my uncle, you didn't need to, so why—?"

"Aeyera," Gandalf said, placing a hand on my shoulder. I looked up, moving my head away from Kili's comfortable shoulder, and gazed up at the wizard with teary eyes, one hand fisted tightly in the sleeve of Kili's tunic. My face warmed at the thought of the company seeing me like this, but in a glance I saw that most were looking elsewhere, giving me as much privacy as possible.

"Can you stand?" he asked, holding out his hand. I bit my lip, unsure, and took the wizard's hand. Kili held my elbows as Gandalf helped me to my feet, and I stood on my right foot, afraid to put any weight on my left even though my right throbbed from the lashes I had received. "What's wrong?" he asked, frowning. I closed my eyes and moving my weight to my left foot, putting it down, and I screamed through gritted teeth as I crumpled to the ground. Kili held my arms, preventing me from falling, and I felt a surge of gratitude mixed with something… different as his hand brushed against my cheek as he brought it back to push some hair out of his face. I decided not to focus on it as Gandalf felt my ankle through my light boot, muttering under his breath. "Not broken," he murmured. "Although I believe it was dislocated." I recalled the pop I had heard and felt when struggling to get out from under Thorin, and I understood. Oh, Eru. _Thorin._

Without another word Gandalf moved over to Thorin, who was lying unmoving, on the ground. I felt a surge of guilt; if I had not fallen unconscious, Gandalf would have first helped Thorin; he was more important to the Company than I was.

"Thorin! Thorin." Thorin was not responding, and Bilbo ran up as I looked away, shame spreading through me. Gandalf placed his hand on Thorin's face and whispered a spell, and I looked back in wonder as Thorin's eyes fluttered open and he gasped for air. He spoke weakly. "The elfling? The halfling?"

Gandalf smiled. "It's alright. Aeyera and Bilbo are here. They're quiet safe."

By now, the other dwarves have all been landed on the Carrock, and they surround the wounded Thorin and I. Dwalin and Fili help Thorin up. However, once he's up, he shrugged them off and approached Bilbo, who stood in front of Kili and I, who were on the ground, the former crouched beside me. "You! What were you doing? You nearly got yourself killed! Did I not say that you would be a burden? That you would not survive in the wild? That you had no place amongst us?"

Thorin advanced until he was face to face with Bilbo, and it was clear from his posture that the poor halfling was both worried and frightened. I shrunk back myself, alarmed and frightened by his behavior. "I have never been so wrong in all my life!" Thorin grabbed Bilbo and embraced him deeply, his countenance changing completely. The other dwarves cheered loudly and slapped each other on the back, and I smiled, though I still was very worried. Gandalf smiled. Bilbo, clearly surprised, hugged Thorin back. "I am sorry I doubted you."

"No, I would have doubted me too. I'm not a hero or a warrior... not even a burglar," he admitted sheepishly. As everyone chuckled, the Eagles flew away, screeching.

Thorin then looked beyond Bilbo to me and stepped forward, his face stern. He crouched down till we were face to face and he was on one knee. Then he did the last thing I expected: he bowed his head. "Princess," he said, and as he looked at me his face softened, his eyes sad and full of regret. "I owe you my life, and I would ask your forgiveness. I have known many elves, and you are the only one whom I would call friend. You have saved my life, and you have safe the lives of my kin. You and I share a common cause and a common enemy, and I am proud to fight with you. I am proud to call you my friend." He embraced me as well, and I hugged him back, gladness in my heart. "I am in your debt, Princess of Mirkwood."

As I settled back against Kili, my right leg under me and my left before me, I gazed at the king before me, who had lived longer than I. "You are forgiven, my king," I said softly, bowing my head to him. "I thank you, but you are not in my debt, neither are your kin. I would strive to protect you because although I could not do so beneath the mountain so long ago, I am able to now."

Thorin looked at me in a new way: with respect, and he said, his voice like that of a great king, "Then our debts are paid, neither you or I are indebted to each other any longer." His attention turned to the fact that I couldn't rise, and he frowned and turned to the company. "Oin, come help her," he said. When he turned back, his gaze was fixated on a point beyond me, and I turned around, confused by the way his gaze misted over.

Bilbo spoke up from beside me. "Is that…what I think it is?"

In the distance, on the horizon, I could see the outline of a single, solitary mountain, and for me, I saw the shadow of a great forest before it: my home. "Erebor—The Lonely Mountain. The last of the great dwarf kingdoms of Middle-Earth."

Thorin looked at it wistfully, his face longing. "Our home."

A bird chirped and flew past, darting back and forth across the sky, and Oin spoke up. "A raven! The birds are returning to the mountain."

Gandalf replied, a smile on his voice. "That, my dear Oin, is a thrush."

Thorin responded softly, "But we'll take it as a sign—a good omen."

Bilbo smiled. "You're right. I do believe the worst is behind us."

I sighed and leaned against Kili, hoping against hope that the hobbit was right; that the worst was behind us, and the company gazed upon the Lonely Mountain as the sun rose over the peaks behind us, bathing us in golden light.

**End of Book 1**


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